


Honor and Blood - Part II.

by conaionaru



Series: Honor and Blood (Ivar the Boneless) [2]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Angst, Badass Vanya, Fluff, Loooong story, Major character death - Freeform, Murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:28:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28360920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conaionaru/pseuds/conaionaru
Summary: Vanya and Ivar face new challenges with the return of his father and the death of his mother.
Relationships: Ivar (Vikings)/Original Character(s), Ivar (Vikings)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Honor and Blood (Ivar the Boneless) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076861
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	1. Ragnar Lothbrok

The weather was pleasant for once, and Vanya enjoyed every moment of it. Bathing in the lake or gathering flowers and herbs for both Helga and Aslaug was her favorite pastime. Ivar’s overprotectiveness dulled slightly, but he still treated her like she might disappear if he didn’t see her at least ten times a day. 

The rest of the time, Hoenir shadowed her instead. The silent wanderer was as quiet as a mouse, which annoyed both Vanya and Brynja, who loved to chatter and felt awkward with his grunts as answers. He was quite witty whenever he spoke, which delighted Vanya. For some reason, Ivar trusted the man and didn’t get jealous of him at all.

Right now, Vanya, Brynja, and Hoenir walked the meadow gathering herbs for Aslaug, who wanted to pray to the gods as she had a vision and needed answers. Vanya volunteered to find the required flowers in her steed, as Aros slept better out on the fresh air.

The said three months old laid peacefully in a sling wrapped around Vanya. Aros liked the sun and flowers and giggled whenever he had heard loud sounds. The fact that he was Ivar’s son was also obvious as ever since he could roll over, he reached his hands out to crawl and got frustrated when he couldn’t do it. 

The child made both parents very happy, and Aslaug was more than delighted to have a grandson. Which wasn’t good for the other Ragnarssons as she kept pestering them for children of their own. "I am telling you, Vanya! She is mending his clothes for him!“

Vanya snickered at Brynja’s complaining; Hoenir looked at the other ginger, confused. "Aren’t you happy you don’t have to do it?”

“Well… yes." Brynja frowned and threw her arms up in defeat. "But now he won’t stop saying how good of a wife she would make. Father is too old to get married again.”

Vanya and Hoenir shared a look and carried on in their walk, silently laughing at the servant, whose father kept courting the neighbor. “Maybe she thinks he doesn’t have enough clothes to not walk around shirtless.” The Princess offered, to which Brynja shook her head and pointed an accusatory finger at them both. 

“You are enjoying this, aren’t you? What if she wants me to call her Mother?”

“Ignore her," Hoenir answered, simply earning a deadpan expression from Brynja. She rolled her eyes and turned back around so she wouldn’t trip and fall. Her orange dress twirled with her movement, her curls bouncing on her shoulders. 

Vanya chuckled at the display and walked behind her savoring the feel of a gentle breeze on her face, her hair swaying in the wind. "I am surprised Ivar left so easily," Brynja called out, thinking of the Ragnarsson hunting trip. The truth is, Bjorn, threatened to drag Ivar out of bed while he slept if he refused to go, but it’s not like Hoenir and Brynja needed to know that.

"He needed to spend some time with his brothers, anyway. I think they only left to escape the Queen.”

“Let’s not forget the joy of killing something," Hoenir added, making both gingers look at him confused. He shrugged unapologetically and continued on his way with the two females behind him. 

Brynja watched the broad back of the heathen and leaned closer to Vanya’s ear. "Does he sometimes talk of me?”

Vanya raised an eyebrow at the unexpected question and shook her head. "To be fair, he is silent most of the time. Why are you asking?“

"I am just curious. It would be nice if he liked me back. But the Gods sent him here to protect you, not to flirt with me." The twenty-year-old hid her smile behind her bouquet of herbs, but the sparkle in her eye was obvious. She fancied the young Seer. "On the other hand, maybe it is his destiny to put a child in me as well.”

Vanya giggled at her adorable friend and looked down at her with mischief in her steel-blue eyes. "You should ask the Seer.“

Brynja glared at the joking Princess and hit her on the arm. "Very funny, Vanya. I will ask the ancient one for marriage advice.”

“Are you planning a marriage already? My, my, Brynja, aren’t you fast?" 

"Oh, Shush!”

Hoenir stopped in his track and looked down at the blushing redhead who gripped Vanya’s hand in support. Both held their breath, waiting for what he had to say only for him to shake his head and point to the way back, silently telling them to return. "I think he heard,“ Vanya whispered embarrassedly while Brynja, her red face behind her wild hair.”You know it would be easier if you just spoke to him instead of daydreaming.”

“He doesn’t like me back, Vanya.” Brynja protested sadly, watching the man walk before them, his tall frame casting a shadow on them, shielding them from the harsh sun rays. “He looks at Sigurd with more passion than at me.”

Vanya sighed and rubbed her friend’s shoulder sadly. The wanderer talked more whenever Sigurd was near, mostly about music. For someone so silent, he enjoyed music, which delighted the Ragnarsson. So they talked together a lot even when neither was with Vanya.

The trio walked the path to Kattegat pleasantly, talking about what they thought Bjorn would find in the Mediterranean or if it even existed, which Brynja didn’t believe. "I am telling you, the map is a lie. There can be no such place.”

“When we were children, England and Paris were imaginary lands to us too.” Hoenir pointed out, making the servant pout and Vanya chuckle. They froze as a large crowd gathered before them around somebody or something.

Vanya stretched her neck, trying to see what all the commotion is about, but to no avail. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know but stay behind me,” Hoenir ordered, his hand on his sword, ready to kill any possible threat. He stopped by one of the bystanders and tapped them on the shoulder. The merchant looked up at the wanderer with a frown, looking ready to complain, but held his tongue when he saw the emotionless Seer before him. “What is going on?”

“He came back. Ragnar is back.” The moment the words left, the man’s lips Vanya looked at Brynja, who seemed as equally shocked as her. They hurried forward, shouldering past men and women to get a clearer view of what was happening.

“It appears my return is not welcome.” The man in the middle of the angry and curious crowd was nothing like Vanya imagined him. Ivar always described him as a tall man with his head held high who screamed power. But the man she sees is dressed in rags and on edge. No wonder when he returned after such a long time, and everybody seems to hate him. “You have obviously all made your mind up about me.”

Ragnar walked in front of a row of men, which Vanya just now realized are his and Aslaug’s sons. He stopped in front of Sigurd and looked them over. “Who is gonna do it, then? Who is gonna kill me?” The blood in Vanya’s veins froze at the nonchalant way Ragnar asked the question. As if he didn’t care if he lived anymore like he wanted them to do it.

The Ragnarssons looked at him with hard faces, only Hvitserk seeming put off by the question. “Well, I don’t mind.” Ragnar continued looking his sons over for a willing killer. “Go ahead. Please.” He moved in front of them again, carefree as if he wasn’t talking about death at all.

“What about you, Hvitserk?” He stopped on the other end of the row this time, looking his third son in the eyes, Hvitserk’s face steeled for the confrontation. “You think you are a man now? Huh? I dare you. Put me out of my misery.” Ragnar talked to him softly, but for every word that Vanya or Brynja didn’t hear, Hoenir provided thanks to his sharp ear. Everyone watched the King of Kattegat talk to Hvitserk, waiting for somebody to act.

Ragnar smiled at his son’s lack of response. “Do it. Do it. Do it, do it.” He kept repeating, hitting the flaxen-haired boy in the chest after every taunt. “DO IT!” The scream startled both Hvitserk and the people behind him. Vanya flinched at the sudden cry, Aros stirring against her chest and letting out a whine. Vanya tried to calm him before he started crying and disturbed the scene.

“Look at these people!” Ragnar shouted, extending his hand towards the crowd, his blue eyes still trained on his son. “They no longer support me! Look! Why would they? I am your leader, and I just left! What kind of leader does that, huh?”

The bald man moved into the middle of the crow with his arms spread wide and an uneasy smile on his lips. “WHAT KIND OF KING ABANDONS HIS PEOPLE?” He shouted it for all to hear and turned back to his boys, walking towards them, his jaw clenched. He looked at his oldest son with his second wife. “What kind of father abandons his sons?” Ragnar panted softly, waiting for somebody to tell something, but no one dared to open their mouths.

“So who wants to be king?” But again, no answer came, so he turned to the people, drawing his sword. “Oh, you know how this works! If you want to be King, you must kill me.” He threw the sheath on the ground and offered the handle of his weapon to the people.

“Take it.” But the gray-haired man refused to move, so Ragnar tried again with other people. “No? You? No? What about you? No? No? Anyone?”

He stabbed the blade on the ground, the sharp edge burying into the dirt, waiting for somebody to draw it and swing it. “WHO WANTS TO BE KING?”

Ragnar walked back to his son, his jaw tense and eyes screaming anger. He went face to face with his oud playing offspring. “What about you, Sigurd? Do you want to be King?” The boy didn’t answer, so moving on, Ragnar tried with Ubbe next. “Do you want to be King, Ubbe? Kill me, and you are King. King Ubbe!”

He turned to the people, one hand on Ubbe’s shoulder, the other pointing back at him. Ragnar turned towards the son who looked so much like him; a smile spread over his face. He then slapped his cheek, Ubbe head flying back from the contact. Vanya cursed loudly, shocked by the display, glaring at the boy’s figures from her spot on the left, her jaw tense and eyes cold as ice.

“What are you waiting for?” Ubbe didn’t answer, so Ragnar struck him again, gasps echoing from the people. “Are you afraid? Be a man!” The father went face to face with him, trying to egg him on. But when he got no reaction, he tsked and moved on again.

He chuckled and patted Ivar’s head, drawing it back and flexing his fingers like he touched dirt. Vanya’s husband watched the man he admired walk off, not even attempting to ask him. Ragnar walked off, seemingly done with the interaction, till Ubbe walked forward, sword in hand looking determined.

Brynja and Vanya held their breaths, waiting for the fight to start, but nothing happened. Murmurs spread over the crowd as Ragnar spread his arms wide, mentioning for Ubbe to make the strike. The brothers looked at each other, unsure what their oldest had in mind. The King slowly walked closer to him, fingers stopping at the handle of his own sword in the ground. But he made another step, leaving it there. He raised his hand up as Ubbe leaned his head back, waiting for another slap that never came.

Instead, Ragnar cupped his cheek and drew him closer, hugging the tall Ragnarsson. When the moment caught up with Ubbe, he dropped the blade and embraced him back, fisting the back of his tunic and buried his head in the crook of his father’s neck. Everyone watched the interaction in shock, Brynja cursing under her breath, wanting to see the two fight. So Vanya hit her shoulder, silently scolding the ginger while Hoenir snickered.

They turned their gazes back to the King and the Princes when Bjorn made his way through the other side of the crowd, looking pissed. He moved in front of the remaining brother, his arms crossed, looking his father up and down. Ubbe stepped back, looking down as Bjorn glared at Ragnar. “Why did you come back?”

Ragnar looked at him, both tense. Meanwhile, Ivar crawled away, offended by his father’s behavior. The King told his sons he wanted to talk to them in private; Vanya clenched her jaw and pushed her way through the masses, her head held high and murder in her eyes.

She made her way into the middle of the crowd, Brynja and Hoenir running behind her, shocked by her sudden leave. The sons of Aslaug looked at her confused, Hvitserk trying to pull her back, but she sidestepped him, stalking towards Ragnar with a clenched jaw, patting Aros’s back, who chewed on her hair. “Ragnar Lothbrok!” She spat out as if the word burned.

Bjorn and Ragnar looked at her as well, the older male’s lips lifting up, watching the stranger. The smaller female stopped in front of him, with a babe in her arms. Sigurd and Hvtiserk moved up behind her, the older of the two smiling down at the child that babbled at him happily waving it’s little arms around, obvious to his mother’s anger.

“And you are?” Ragnar asked, amused, his brows lifting with his head to the side. Vanya ignored the change of atmosphere and hardened her stare.

“Your daughter in law and mother of your grandchild.” She spat back, surprising Ragnar, who looked at his sons for confirmation, only to see Hvitserk high five the child over Vanya’s shoulder.

He smirked and looked at the boys to see who would claim the girl as theirs. “And who is the lucky one? Hvitserk? Ubbe? Sigurd?”

Vanya scoffed, turning the man’s gaze back down to her. “Ivar’s.” She explained her tongue visibly, trailing from one canine tooth to the other. Ragnar straightened his back, looking over his family, searching for his youngest, only to see an empty spot.

“Congratulation, then.” He grimaced at her, not understanding why she went up to him in the first place. Brynja tugged at her sleeve, trying to make her retreat, but the Princess stayed put a glare on her face.

“Vanya,” Brynja begged desperately; Hoenir pulled her back, his hand on his sword, ready to intervene if things escalated.

“What kind of pathetic man are you?” Vanya asked, shocking everyone. Ubbe’s widened; he reached for her only for Bjorn to shake his head at him, the ginger walking closer to the older Viking. “He is the only one who admires you, worships you, and defends you against everyone. And yet you ignore him as if he isn’t worth even a mention.”

Ragnar chuckles at her spat out words, shrugging, his brows up, agitating the ginger even more. Vanya scoffed and looked him up and down with disgust. “I truly don’t see what all the fuss is about. You aren’t anything special. Just another desperate man with no ounce of the nobility left in his body.” She hissed hatefully, shocking the Ragnarssons at her harsh words. Her stance and glare reminded them so much of Ivar it was uncanny.

“Not worth a mention or reaction from anybody. You should have stayed where you were.” Ragnar looked at her, smirking in a peculiar way as if amused by her hateful comments. When he didn’t defend himself, Vanya’s hand shot out and slapped Ragnar on the same side he hit Ubbe on. The crack of the contact made everyone gasp and stare at her wide-eyed. She spat upon his feet and snarled at him. “Goodbye, My King.”

She turned her back to him and walked towards Hvitserk, her eyes still steel-blue instead of the usual warm sky blue. “Which way did he go?” She requested, raising an eyebrow at him. The Ragnarsson jerked his head backward, signaling that the youngest son went that way. The Saxon nodded in thanks and moved to go after him.

Sigurd reached out to her, only for Vanya to jerk her hand away, nearly accidentally hitting him in the face. She walked off, the crowd parting for her as the red sea. Hoenir looked at the King, seizing him up before he followed after her. Aros blew a raspberry towards his uncles, not caring for his mother’s sour mood.

Vanya abandoned Hoenir somewhere behind when Ivar was in sight. She walked up the hillside to him and carefully sat down, fixing her blue dress so she wouldn’t trip on it. The ginger got comfortable on the grass and looked at her tense husband, his eyes refusing to look at her directly, only seeing her from the corner of his eye.

She took out Aros from the sling and laid him on her lap, the boy instantly turning over and reaching for his father. Ivar reached towards the boy with his left hand and offered the boy one of his fingers, which he wrapped his small hand around, tugging at it cheerfully. Ivar moved the finger up and down, pretending to shake off his son’s grip, which Aros found amusing and giggled uncontrollably, wiggling in his mother’s lap.

Vanya waited for Ivar to tell her what plagued him at his own pace, patiently sitting there and letting the breeze mess up her hair. After some more silence, Ivar sighed. “He didn’t even ask me, just petted me like a dog. As if I wasn’t his son too.”

Vanya sighed and looked at Ivar sadly, seeing the sad eyes hidden behind the angry mask. “I am the only one who didn’t talk of killing him. Everyone hates him, and I was the only one who defended him. They all wanted to kill him if he returned, and then they didn’t do anything. Ubbe hugged him!”

Vanya solemnly nodded and leaned her head against his shoulder, trying to comfort him while he vented silently. She licked her lips nervously and closed her eyes, steeling herself for a confession. “I slapped him.”

Ivar jumped at that and looked at her confused, shrugging his shoulder so she would lift her head and look at him. Vanya gazed into his eyes sheepishly and nervously smiled at him. “I insulted him, slapped him, and spat in front of him before going after you.” Ivar stared at her with his mouth open and eyes wide. “I don’t regret it, though. I was defending my husband’s honor.”

Ivar chuckled and laid his forehead against hers, his eyes closed, silently thanking his wife. “My brave wife. What would I do without you, huh?” He joked, making her smile and chuckle, drawing her head back and kissing his forehead.

Ivar gazed up at her as she smiled brightly, the contagious expression making him smile back.

During dinner, Ivar sat there, brooding, waiting for anyone to talk. He threw his spoon away and glared at his brothers. “So… Father wants to go to England. Why do you not want to go with him?” The other brothers sighed, annoyed with the topic, while Aslaug and Vanya watched on, interested in the answer. “Ubbe?" 

"You know why. Now shut up.” The oldest son of Aslaug ordered observing a piece of food instead of looking at his brother in the eyes.

“Is it the same for you, Sigurd?” Everyone looked at the said male, intrigued by the possibilities of the answer. “Or are you afraid of being seasick?” Ivar mocked, resting his head on his fist.

“I am not afraid of anything, brother.”

“Not even me?” The smile on Sigurd’s lips fell as he played with the knife. Hviterk looked at Ivar, amused, while Margrethe moved to pour him a cup.

“So… Lillemor ( Little mother), what was that out there?” Ubbe questioned, looking at Vanya with a raised eyebrow making the said female sigh and roll her eyes at him, tired with the questions.

“I told you. It was a backbone, something none of you had at that moment.” She snapped, taking her cup to her lips and sipping the mead.

“We acted appropriately. Other than you who attacked a man, you don’t know.” Sigurd jumped in as Margrethe moved away from Ivar, shaking in fear from the Viking’s angry eyes as Sigurd’s words.

Vanya chuckled and leaned over the table towards him. “You think I don’t know who Ragnar Lothbrok is? What he truly is? As if my people didn’t live in fear of him, treating him like the devil and praying for his death. As if my father didn’t take precautions for when he would return. But he didn’t, and instead, I married one of his sons and carried on the Lothbrok bloodline. I may not know him personally, but I know what he is capable of. But I don’t fear him!”

Sigurd scoffed as Vanya slammed her cup down, startling the Ragnarssons, Margrethe, and Aros, who sat in Aslaug’s lap. “You make him sound as if he was some god. He is no god, just another human with power and wit. Yet you shake in your boots when he stands before you like he will strike you dead with lightning if you look at him the wrong way.”

“We were cautious, instead of you who behaved like a child.”

Ivar slammed his cup down on the table, angered by Sigurd’s words. The ale sloshed from the cup, startling Margrethe, who nearly dropped her jug. He glared at her, hitting her on her thigh to scold her for her carelessness.

“It is wrong to treat her that way.” Ubbe warned Ivar while Margrethe moved away to escape him.

“Why are you so polite? She is just a slave. You all just want to have her. You too, Ubbe.” Ivar mocked, wiggling his finger at his older brother. Vanya glared at Ivar, her hand clenching around his right wrist.

“Ivar.”

“Mother.” The boy rolled his eyes at her warning. Aslaug tried to hold back a smile at his antics; Aros rested against her chest, sucking on his thumb. Ivar smirked at his little victory, satisfied with the outcome, while Vanya frowned next to him.

The next day, Vanya sat with Aslaug in the room behind the curtain of the Great Hall, mashing herbs in a bowl, careful to do it slowly as the Queen advised. “Keep the speed up, and then add the garlic. What does that stand for?”

Vanya ground the herbs in a Mortar with Pestle blowing hair out of her face, trying to remember what Aslaug taught her. “It stands for protection, strength, and healing.”

Aslaug nodded proudly, watching her daughter in law work like a Völva. The Queen has been teaching Vanya somethings she knew that could be useful for the babe, Ivar, or herself. She also taught her about visions for when Aros started having them. The last part confused Vanya as Aslaug could teach her grandson herself, but Aslaug insisted on doing it this way.

Aros laid on a fur next to the table, slobbering all over the figure of Fenrir that his father made. The boy loved sucking on the toy and always played with it. No other toy interested the boy, no matter if it made a noise or shined prettily; this, of course, made Ivar very proud.

“Have you been sleeping alright?” Aslaug asked the obvious question, the dark circles under Vanya’s eyes a dead giveaway. She shook her head and leaned back, resting her ass on her ankles.

“Aros keeps crying during the night. Nothing I try helps. The Healer says it’s nothing, but I think he is in pain. He always looks so upset, but when Ivar talks to him, he stops.” Aslaug looked down at the content child and then at her daughter.

“Maybe he just misses his father. He must feel how tense everyone is since Ragnar returned. Maybe he knows something that we don’t.”

Vanya shook her head and picked up the babe, who whined a little bit at being moved but stopped when it saw its mother. He raised one hand towards her hair and twisted it between his fingers, babbling nonsense.

“And what about you?”

“Huh?”

“How do you feel about Ragnar’s return? Everyone said what they think; you are the only one who has stayed silent. You must have an opinion as well.” Vanya questioned the strawberry blonde Queen, who smirked at the question and shook her head.

“I don’t know what to think. He has not spoken to me yet. I cannot blame him; we didn’t part in a good way.” Aslaug explained, draining her cup and taking Aros from her so Vanya can finish the ritual.

Vanya took the two stones and hit them against each other until a spark lit the bowl’s content up in flames. As soon as the fire started, it ended, leaving behind a cloud of smoke that both women looked into. “What do you see in the smoke?”

“I see…A ship,” Vanya started but cut herself off angrily, glaring at the smoke. “And an argument on its way.”

Aslaug chuckled, thinking the girl was joking, but when Vanya too Aros from her and left with an apology, the Völva knew she was serious. The Princess stormed off to her hut laying Aros into his bed, fuming angrily. “Why didn’t it occur to me earlier. I was so stupid, wasn’t I?” She hissed, undressing her babe to wash it with a cloth.

Aros looked up at his mother, confused while she rambled on. “He asked everyone but Ivar. He will ask him next.” She spat, throwing the rag away and collapsing on the floor angrily while Aros whine at the cold. “And your father will say yes.” She cried at her own stupidity. No matter how much he swore to protect them and stay by their side. He yearned for Ragnar’s approval and would gladly go with him if it meant his respect. Vanya couldn’t forbid him to go; it would be cruel.

She sobbed on the floor, only picking herself up when Aros’s whining got louder. She finished washing him and laid down in bed with him, cradling him close to calm herself down. She sang to him the lullaby her wetnurse sang her so long ago.

The eerie song sends him to sleep son enough, and Vanya was left alone to her thoughts till Ivar returned. “Is he asleep already?”

Vanya hummed, not looking at him, instead of watching the adorable face of her firstborn. Ivar undressed and climbed into bed next to them, careful not to squash the tiny babe. “Did you say yes?”

Ivar froze and looked at her before sighing. That meant he did. She chuckled and gazed into his unsure eyes, smiling sadly. “This is a great opportunity to prove myself to him, to be more than his son in the name. Everybody keeps saying that being the son of Ragnar Lothbrok is enough. But I don’t feel that way.” He looked at her desperately, hoping she would understand. “I love you and Aros. I always thought that I couldn’t have a child or a wife. That I was truly boneless, but you proved me wrong. But I need more. I need to be more than a husband and father.”

Vanya nodded and took Ivar’s hand in hers, taking a deep breath to gather her thoughts. “If even you couldn’t do those things, it doesn’t make you any less of a man. Cripple or not, you don’t need a wife or a child to prove that you are like your brothers. Lots of men can have sex. Lots of men can have children. Those things are easy. To be a son of Ragnar Lothbrok, and to find greatness… That is hard!”

Ivar looked at her with tears in his eyes, relieved that she understood and supported him. “If you feel like you must go to Wessex to feel whole…” She sighed and let the tears spill over her cheeks as well, her husband crying, tearing at her heart. “Then I will wait for you here. We both will! And when you return, we will celebrate with your family because no one will ever underestimate you again!”

Ivar nodded and hugged her, crying together until they fell asleep in each other’s arms, Aros sleeping between them.


	2. Darkness before us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanya worries for Ivar’s safety on his upcoming journey, meanwhile something bad is about to happen in Kattegat.

“Are you sure you are alright? You are quiet.” Hoenir commented, watching Vanya as she mended on of Aros’s tunics. Her face was tense, and her fingers shook so much she would have to redo the whole thing later.

“So are you most of the time. But I don’t question you about it.” The redhead spoke evenly, her voice devoid of her usual joy and optimism. Ever since Ragnar returned, she was behaving strangely.

The man responsible for her sour mood walked by them, looking broken as well. Hoenir heard stories of the great Ragnar Lothbrok, the man who sailed west. It was said the gods favored him, even that he was descended from Odin himself. What a shame it was to see him past his prime with no followers. “Princess Vanya.”

Vanya raised her icy blue eyes to look at him and nodded in greeting. Aros stirred in his crib beside her, making the King’s eyes turn there. He saw a glimpse of his grandson yesterday, but not good enough to seize the babe up.

Vanya pulled him from the crib, talking to him in a hushed manner, stroking the back of his head and back. “Do you wish to see him?” She asked, not looking at him but obviously meaning him as the man by her side cringed away from the upset child. The man was an outsider obviously, covered in a cloak with paint on his face. But the sword on his side was more interesting to Ragnar. For someone who looked homeless, Vanya’s bodyguard had a fine blade.

Cautiously, Ragnar walked to her side on the bench as she quieted the child down. He had strong lungs, just like Ivar had when he was an infant. At least this babe isn’t in constant pain; otherwise, he would be screaming for more. “His name is Aros.”

The Viking took the babe from her arms, carefully cradling his whining grandson. He looked just like Ivar did when he was a babe; the only difference was the cool look in his eyes. That reminded him of Vanya and her composed personality. “Is he… whole?”

Vanya frowned at his hesitant question and glared at him in answer. “He is healthy if that’s what you are asking. No need to leave him out in the forest to die.”

The corner of Ragnar’s eye twitched at that; his lips pulled in an awkward smirk. “So he told you about that.”

“Ivar mentioned it. Including other things.” She snapped back, stabbing the fabric that she was working on with her needle. “I don’t like you.”

“I figured.”

The poor tunic acted as a stress reliever to the Princess, the needle stabbing in the fabric aggressively. She swallowed to gather the courage to tell the King what she thought but came up short. Vanya was at a loss for words on what to say. They were practically strangers; all they knew of each other coming from other people.

“And that Ivar’s coming with me to England isn’t helping either, is it?” Ragnar raised an eyebrow, waiting for the confirmation that Ivar told her he was leaving soon.

“I gave him my blessing.” She spat out tiredly, taking her son from his arms, uncomfortable with his line of questions. Vanya longed for the simpler days where Ragnar wasn’t in Kattegat. It would all be so much easier if he never returned; she could be a mother and enjoy her time with Ivar. Instead of worrying if he will ever return and she will have to raise Aros on her own.

He shook his head at that, shifting his weight to his other leg. “Yet, you are uneasy.”

Vanya looked at him with soft eyes, tears gathered in the corner’s making her seem like the young woman she is. Not like the confident woman she is trying to appear like. "I have been praying to the Gods that he will come back. Blessing or not, I worry you are leading him to get slaughtered. You don’t even have an army!“

"I will gather one. I promise you Ivar will come back alive and well. I wouldn’t let anything happen to him.” He reassured her, finally seeing the girl Ivar told him of. The compassionate one who loves him and gave him a son. Not the girl that slapped Ragnar and spat at him. It is so hard to believe that they are the same person.

Vanya nodded in thanks looking down into her son’s innocent eyes. Blue like a stormy sea, eyebrows drawn together in tension. “He has been on edge ever since Ivar said he is leaving with you. I am worried he knows something I don’t.”

“He is three months old. He is probably upset because you are.” Hoenir reminded her, trying to calm her down.

Vanya shook her head and stroke her index finger over his chubby cheeks. “He is like Aslaug. What if he sees something terrible happening and is trying to warn everyone?”

Ragnar looked down at Aros, pulling a funny face to make his grandson laugh. The little Ivarsson glared up at Ragnar before showing him a reluctant toothless grin. Vanya’s own pinched expression eased as well before she looked at Ragnar in a silent thanks. “If the Gods truly have something to say, Aslaug will know. She didn’t say anything, did she?”

Vanya shook her head and sighed in exhaustion. She is being silly; Ragnar was right. If something were going to happen to Ivar, Aslaug would have seen it and forbidden him to go. The Queen loved him too much to let anything happen to him. And if Ivar protested, Vanya would back her up wholeheartedly. She was okay with Ivar leaving to gain glory, not to die.

Ragnar walked away from the trio, leaving Hoenir to look at Vanya worriedly. “Maybe we should go inside? Rest for a bit. Or for a walk.”

“I would like that.” And so they stood up and walked through the busy streets of Kattegat, Aros whining in her arms from all the noise.

“It’s always summer, under the sea  
I know, I know, oh, oh, oh  
The birds have scales  
(The birds have scales)  
And the fish take wing (and the fish take wing)  
I know, I know, oh, oh, oh  
The rain is dry, and the snow falls up  
I know, I know, oh, oh, oh.”

Vanya sang to her crying son, who didn’t like his father’s angry screams echoing from the Great Hall. She skipped out on lunch with the rest of the Ragnarssons and Aslaug in favor of putting Aros to bed. But Ivar and Sigurd got into an argument that ended with Ivar screaming out in anger.

She didn’t like the sound either but prayed that Aros would quiet down and nap before the feast this evening. Aslaug asked Vanya to bring him to the celebration so she could show her only grandson off.

But the little Ivarsson kept crying and looking at his mother with teary eyes. The door to their hut opened, followed by the sound of something dragging itself on the ground. Ivar crawled towards his upset son and wife. “Why is he crying? Is he in pain?”

Vanya shook her head and rocked him in his crib as Ivar gazed down on Aros in worry. “He was about to fall asleep before he heard you scream.” Ivar trailed his hand against Aros’s face, lovingly tutting to his son.

“It’s alright, Min dyrebare (My precious). Faðir is alright; your uncle just angered me. I am all better now.” The tears streaming down his face stopped, but he still whined in frustration. Vanya picked up her singing as Ivar slowly rocked the crib to the lullaby till their son finally closed his eyes and fell asleep.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Vanya whispered, not looking at Ivar, whose expression changed to anger once again. He sighed and dragged himself to the fire, sitting down in his chair with tense muscles.

Vanya picked herself up from the ground and walked up behind Ivar’s chair, resting her hands on his shoulders. With gentle touches, she tried to massage the tension from his body and put his mind at ease. “He talked bad about Mother. I won’t stand that. Never.”

“He is acting out. Margrethe won’t come near him since you yelled at her for slacking off.” Vanya reminded him, feeling sorry for the blonde who was pale as snow when Ivar was done with her.

The Ragnarsson scoffed and poured ale into his usual cut, sipping on it between sentences. “She was meant to help you with Aros since you let Brynja take a day off. Her duty was to serve you, not to fuck Sigurd behind a shed!”

With a sigh, Vanya tiptoed in front of Ivar, crouching before him and taking his angry face into her soft hands. “I am not saying you did something bad. But she has no choice when they ask her to sleep with them. No matter who it is, she must say yes. Even if she told him she had work to do, I doubt he would have listened.”

Vanya smoothed her thumb over the worry lines on his face; Ivar closed his stormy eyes and leaned into her palm. “You terrified her, and she is avoiding Sigurd, and that frustrates him. I think he might actually love her.”

Ivar’s deadpan expression was not what she expected as an answer to her speech. “She is a thrall!”

“She is a pretty girl that pays attention to him and sleeps with him. That makes people fall in love. It made me fall in love too. Thrall or not, he could free her if he wants her to have a say in the relationship.”

“This is different. Margrethe is a thrall who slept with all the single sons of Ragnar. Don’t you think there is a reason behind that? That freedom is exactly what she wants?” Ivar spat out, rolling his eyes while Vanya nodded along.

Picking up her dress, she walked over to her wardrobe to choose a dress for the feast. “I said he loves her. Not that she loves him back. I have no way of knowing that. Margrethe is hard to read.”

Vanya’s dress hit the floor as she put on a pink one tying the laces in the front while Ivar admired her from afar. “I can feel your stare, Husband.”

Her red locks flipped over her shoulder while she turned towards Ivar with a smirk on her lips. “I married you. I can look.” He shrugged, not bothered at being caught.

“If we can keep quiet, you can do more than look.”

Ivar smirked and crawled towards the bed, with Vanya following him after she unlaced her dress and took it off.

The feast was in full swing, everybody drinking and eating to their heart’s content. The laughter of the guests was pleasant and not too loud yet for Aros. The boy sat contently in his mother’s lap as Ivar gave him a piece of beef to chew on with his nonexistent teeth. Aslaug and Vanya were engrossed in a conversation about their recent lessen when Bjorn walked over.

He tugged on Ubbe’s braid, startling the eldest son of Aslaug. “Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, and Ivar. Hvitserk is coming with us.” The boys stood in front of King Harald and his brother Halfdan, smiling at the men that once raided with their father.

“I remember you; I remember all of you!” Harald said happily, watching the tall young men that once barely reached his waist. “But how you have all grown tall. You’re not boys anymore!”

The three Ragnarssons chuckled at that, causing Ivar’s mood to sour. “I am so much taller when I stand up.” Aslaug looked at him with a sad face, while Vanya put a hand on his forearm to calm him down before he made a scene.

“I’m sure you wish you could come with us,” Halfdan told him sympathetically, but Ivar had none of it.

“Go to Hell.” He said, smiling, raising his cup to the two brothers in a mocking gesture. And just like that, the tense scene was over, and everyone was laughing once again.

“I like him,” Harald announced to his brother, patting him on the back. “And I believe you must be Princess Vanya, right? Ivar’s wife.”

The redhead smiled at him in return. “That would be me, yes. It’s very nice meeting you two.”

“We heard many things about you,” Halfdan added, causing her to raise an eyebrow at his comment. What could the two conquerers of kings have heard about her? “You killed your brother, no? The Saxon?”

She nodded, her smile disappearing from her lips while Aros whined in her lap. “I just gave the order; Ivar did the killing.”

“Impressive nonetheless. Not many have the courage to do so. We also heard you to be a great beauty and very loved by the people.” Harald’s words were sweet, but the look in his eyes creeped her out. She thought the man far too old to look at her in lust, especially when there is a babe in her lap and her husband on her left. 

“And do I meet your expectations, then?”

“Word for word.” Ivar gripped her hand in his, trying to control his anger, or he might attack Bjorn’s ally. “And your son is adorable as well; may he be a strong Viking.”

“Thank you.” The conversation ended there when Floki joined them, leading them to Helga. Aros whined in Vanya’s lap, reaching towards the boatbuilder's retreating figure. The conversation flowed again, Hoenir chatting with Sigurd, Ubbe, and Hvitserk while Vanya, Ivar, and Aslaug talked among themselves.

A blonde figure clad in a black fur cloak drew Ivar’s interest. The earl of Hedeby, Lagertha, stood not too far from them looking at Aslaug. The Queen walked over to her while Vanya and Ivar watched in case something happened.

“A toast to all of us. Reunited and stronger than ever. Skol!”

“Skol!”

Vanya stood up from her seat to put Aros to bed; Hoenir stood up as well, to ensure nothing happened to them. Lagertha stopped them in their way, smiling at the ginger with a sweet smile. “I wanted to apologize for not sending my support sooner. It might have saved you a lot of pain if I sent warriors as soon as Bjorn told me of your brother’s visit.”

For someone who Aslaug described as controlling and power-hungry, Bjorn’s mother seemed nice. “The past is in the past—no need to dwell on it. I am thankful, anyway.”

Lagertha smiled at her and pointed at Aros, who frowned at her in distrust. “Your son looks just like his father did at that age. Thank the gods that he is well. And you too.” Vanya smiled at that but saw another woman from behind Lagertha looking at her strangely. Torvi elbowed the black-haired woman and told her something that made her stop staring.

“I thank the gods every day.”

“I had no doubt you would survive, Vanya. After all, your son is a descendant from Odin, just like Ragnar. And the gods are always with anyone of Ragnar’s blood.” Vanya’s smile faded from her lips.

Something was strange about this conversation, but she couldn’t pinpoint it. Either the woman was being too friendly or wanted something. “So I heard, but I have to see it for myself. I need proof before I put any faith in Ragnar’s blood. The man doesn’t seem that notable to me now.”

Lagertha’s smile soured as well, and she left with a nod, Vanya and Hoenir watching her go. “I don’t trust her. She is up to something.”

“So is everyone here. For allies, there is a lot of tension in these reunions.” Hoenir agreed, leading them to the hut where Aros would sleep under his watch. Vanya returned to the Hall alone, standing with Ubbe and Sigurd while the sacrifice was made. She watched Lagertha’s offended face as Aslaug left, the former wife of Ragnar not like that she didn’t make the sacrifice instead.

From what Hoenir explained, only the ruler or the place where the sacrifice is made can officiate. So the shieldmaiden’s jealousy is weird; after all, Aslaug is Queen and responsible for making the offering. Lagertha wanting to assist her was anything but a peace offering. It was a childish attempt of an earl trying to become equals with a Queen. Plain and simple, it was powerplay, just what Aslaug said Lagertha would pull.

Aslaug sprinkled them with the deer’s blood, Vanya cringing at the feel of the sticky liquid on her skin. She still hated blood, so her husband smearing it over his face in the background didn’t make her all that happy. Custom or not, Vanya was not a fan of blood.

The next day, Vanya walked with Brynja, Hoenir, through Kattegat’s streets, surrounded by a group of children. Little Hildr held onto her right hand while Aros was perched on her left hip. The children swarmed the Princess and kept asking her question after question.

“Do you think they will see Sleipnir?” Another orphan asked, tugging at her skirt from behind, causing her to laugh.

“I am not sure if there are eight-legged horses in the Mediterranean. I will have to ask Hvitserk when they return.” She said goodbye to Hvitserk, Bjorn, Floki, and Helga this morning. Sending them off on their voyage to unknown lands was surprisingly emotional for her. Not to mention Aros, who wouldn’t let go of Helga’s hair when she held him before leaving.

A commotion could be heard not so far away from them, which became a norm since Ragnar returned. “Why is he giving away gold?”

Vanya watched the King giving away his hard-earned hoard to old men past their fighting days. When he told her that he would find men to travel with him, she hoped them to be more capable than bribed villagers. Apparently, Ubbe and Sigurd weren’t all that fond of his actions as well, but their attempts at trying to rescue Ragnar’s dignity were futile. The King of Kattegat threw his riches into the crowd as his sons stalked off angrily.

“Let’s go back home; it will be naptime soon,” Vanya announced, leading the kids back to the orphanage, deep in her thoughts and worries. The matron Esther met them halfway and let the children away, while Vanya made her way to the blacksmith, where she knew her husband probably was.

“Vanya.” The blacksmith was sowing an armor together, but her attention was on Ivar, who watched the man work intensely.

Ivar looked up at her with a raised eyebrow, ignoring Hoenir, who also entered the workshop, looking around the weapons in interest. “Why the long face, Min elskede (My beloved)?” Vanya smiled at his concerned tone as Aros reached for his father, babbling away happily.

“I saw him bribing people outside. That’s not really an army to be proud of.” The Ragnarsson just scoffed, showing her a coin that had Ecbert’s face on it. 

“They will do, don’t worry. But this is the real goal. We are fighting for the honor of our people. Revenge on Ecbert will fuel them to victory.” Vanya smiled tiredly at his enthusiasm and took the shiny coin from his hand.

Trailing her finger over the gold made her melancholic. How many coins were at home just like this one, stored away to be spent on Siflæd’s unnecessary feasts? She put the object back in his palm and kissed it for good luck. “Then may the gods be with you all. Especially you, you have people to come back to.”

Ivar smiled at her, gazing at her lovingly. She was terrifying in her own sense. His wife may not be a warrior, but she carried her head high and made him melt like snow. For all the years of hard work he spent building up walls and making people fear him, Vanya knocked them all down and turned him into a lovesick fool. But he actually liked it; it was nice to be loved by someone other than his mother.

Hoenir turned to the blacksmith and pointed at a sword on display. It had runes written on the metal, and the handle glistered prettily. “How much for this one?”

“You have one already; it’s fine to work; why get rid of it?” The young Seer shook his head and showed him the blade on his hip.

“Dynja (thunder) was a gift when I left my last home. I wielded two blades, but my father’s old sword was no longer of use. I would like to replace it with this one. So how much for it?”

The blacksmith looked over Hoenir’s ratty coat and brooding eyes before pointing at the displayed blade. “Make an offer.” Hoenir threw a brooch to the man. It was made of gold and formed as a snakehead. “Will do. Take it, name it, take care of it.”

Hoenir almost seemed excited to have the blade in his hand; he trailed his fingers over the runes with a smirk on his lips. “Hlíf (shield). It will be in my shield hand anyway.”

Vanya took Aros from Ivar’s arms and looked at him with a sharp edge in her eyes. “If you don’t return, Lothbrok, I will find a way to enter Vallhalla and kill you for it. I swear on the gods, the pagan and the Christian one.” With that, the two left the stand, a stunned Ivar and a richer blacksmith watching them go.

“If I were you, I would be more scared of her than the battle.” The man commented, continuing his work on Ivar’s request.

Vanya and Hoenir walked side by side, with Brynja long gone. The shorter woman looked up at the tense wanderer. “Why are you gearing up? You didn’t think of replacing the sword before.”

“For all the wars to come. I have a bad feeling.”

“How bad?” Vanya’s lips trembled as she thought of what might go wrong. Ivar, Hvitserk, Bjorn all might be in danger.

Hoenir looked down at her and put a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t know that yet. But I can see darkness before us.”


	3. Knocking on Valhallas door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ivar leaves for England and new problems arise in Kattegat  
> Warnings: smut (in the beginning), oral sex, adult themes, fighting, angst, prophecy, believed? character death

Aros was asleep, and Vanya was brushing her hair after taking her bath. It was well past her usual bedtime, but Ivar wasn’t home yet, and she wanted to talk before he left. If it was the last night she might spend with her him, then it should be special.

That’s why she bathed with lavender scented oils from a merchant and brushed her hair till it shone like flames. Her skin felt tingly, and her nightgown felt featherlight. “I thought you would be asleep.” Ivar’s rough voice said from behind her, startling her from her thoughts.

She turned around in their bed and crawled towards the edge of the bed on all fours. "Can’t sleep in an empty bed. I will have to find a solution when you leave. Otherwise, I will fall over dead when you come back.“

Ivar chuckled at her words and pulled himself up on the bed, Vanya sitting down on her heels, watching him getting comfortable on top of the furs.

"Aros managed to crawl a bit today. Only one foot, but he is getting better. Maybe he will crawl to you at the docks when you come back.” She told him, settling herself against his right side while he put his arms around her and drew her in closer. The couple laid side by side, Vanya’s fingers ghosting over Ivar’s collarbone, enjoying the shivers it produced.

Ivar looked at her foxish grin and smirked down at her. Vanya’s head turned to the side in curiosity at what he would do next, she opened her mouth to ask him, but Ivar put his finger against her plump lips. “I like the smell; it’s new.”

“Lavender and Cedarwood. Hoenir actually helped me pick it up. He was very picky, so I happy that you like it.”

“I like it very much.” He whispered against her lips before kissing her. At first, it started slow, but passion and need consumed them, and things got heated. Vanya threw her right leg over Ivar’s lap and climbed on top of him, burrowing her hands in his hair and softly pulling on the dark strands.

Ivar’s calloused hands gripped her sides, one palm sliding up her white nightgown over her pale thighs. With breathy gasps, Vanya untied his tunic, tugging on it to take it off. Being the loving husband Ivar was, he took it off without teasing her, going right back to kissing her while her hands explored his chest and abs. Not liking the lack of nakedness from Vanya, Ivar pulled off her clothes as well, admiring the view he grew to love.

Since Aros’s birth, her breast had gotten bigger, and she gained some stretch marks on her belly. But she still looked like Freyja to him, now she was even more beautiful, even with her marks and the scar left behind by the arrow in her shoulder. Vanya was breathtaking no matter what, and to him, she would be a goddess before, during, and after her pregnancy as well.

Her pink lips trailed down his jaw and neck, kissing, biting, and sucking softly, torn between leaving marks or not. Ivar had no such inner turmoil as he nipped at her collarbone to make her stop her teasing. Vanya threw her head back and ground her hips against his crotch to throw him off rhythm.

She bit his ear and pushed against his shoulders to make him lie down. When his back hit the furs beneath them, she raked her nails down his torso to his breaches to untie them. Ivar’s hand stopped her, causing her to look at him in worry, thinking his legs must be bothering him. Ivar only shook his head and carefully flipped them around so Vanya would be under him. “I want to try something first.”

The ginger watched him confused as he trailed kissed down her neck to her chest. After some teasing and a goodbye kiss to the space between her breasts, he moved on to her crotch. Vanya gasped at the strange sensation that he caused her with his tongue, throwing her head back and clenching the furs between her fingers.

Ivar continued his sweet ministrations, caressing her tights with his hands. After a year of marriage, he wanted to try what he saw Hvitserk try on Margrethe. Judging by the sounds and wiggling, he was doing a good job. Maybe the slave was good for something, at least, even if it was just putting ideas in Ivar’s head.

So when Vanya moaned out loud and softly shook against his lips, he thanked the gods for letting him accidentally stumble upon his brother and the thrall in the woods. He slithered up the length of her body and kissed her, surprised by how much she was responding after she just came. Vanya pawed against the laces of his pants and pouted at him in her adorable way; with a victorious smirk, Ivar did as asked and took his breeches off.

He positioned himself over her to ensure he wouldn’t squish her or hurt and entered her in a single thrust. Both paused to catch their breaths before he carried on, kissed her lips between thrusts. Knowing he liked it, Vanya nipped on his earlobe and tugged on his short hair, wishing he would grow it out a bit for a better grip.

It was astonishing to hear how much their lovemaking changed from the first time of awkwardness and duty. Over time they got more experienced and adventurous, learning what they loved to do and what not. And Ivar’s new trick certainly will be repeated next time.

Ivar’s movements sped up, and Vanya’s breath grew shorter, signaling that they were both near. Locking gazes and lips, they reached their end together. Ivar rested his forehead against Vanya’s, breathing in her intoxicating scent. Both were drunk on euphoria, kissing one last time before Ivar pulled out of her and laid down on his usual spot on the right.

With a happy sigh, Vanya pressed her front against his arm, drawing the furs over them to keep them warm. Ivar looked at her with vulnerable eyes, cupping her cheek in his hand and dragging his thumb over her swollen lips. “Could you wear something red tomorrow to see me off? So I can remember you that way for when we are apart.”

Vanya smiled at the innocent question and nodded. She leaned against his palm and kissed the tip of his thumbs. “Anything else, Hjertet mitt (My heart)?”

“Just let me lie here, beside you. And touch you.” The two turned on their side, Vanya spooning Ivar from behind, holding him close to her heart. She brushed her fingers through his hair and hummed the lullaby she always sang to Aros. And so they fell into a peaceful slumber, enjoying their last night together until he returned.

Vanya is sitting on her bed with Brynja, talking about the cute boy the older redhead was interested in. “He is tall and has eyes as green as the forest. And hair so blond it is like snow. You should have seen him, Vanya; he looked so good standing there in the river!”

Vanya laughed at the squeal the servant let out, looking down at her latest piece of work. The red dress Ivar wanted to see her in today. The door to her opened, and a thrall barged in. “The Queen wishes to speak to you.”

With a confused look, Vanya put the dress down and followed the thrall towards the Queen’s bedroom. Her mother in law sat on her bed, looking distressed. “Did you know he is leaving?”

“I thought he told you.” Vanya tried only to be cut off by Aslaug.

“That is not what I asked you.” She lifted her gaze from her lap to look at the girl she saw as her own daughter. “What I am curious about is if he told you he is leaving.”

The young Princess sighed and sat down next to Aslaug, taking the woman’s thin hand in hers. “He told me the day he was asked. We talked about it, and I encouraged him to go. He wants to prove his worth to Ragnar and everyone else. I am not happy about it, but I agreed he can go.”

Aslaug shook her head and clenched Vanya’s hand tightly. “Did he tell you what I saw?”

The frown on her face was answer enough. So against her son’s wishes, she told Vanya of her vision. When she was done, Vanya stormed off, barged into her room to find Ivar on the bed, changing Aros’s swaddling clothes. The Ragnarsson had no problem doing the dirty work of raising a child, and Vanya and Aslaug were very proud of that. But the pride didn’t matter now.

Ivar looked up at her, but his smile fell when he saw her angry expression. “Why are you angry? Did Sigurd say something to you again?”

“No.” Vanya scoffed and lifted the freshly changed babe into her arms, lying into his crib so he wouldn’t be in the way. “But your mother did.”

“Ah.” The look on his face was conflicted, watching her stiff back as she stood by the crib. “I wanted to tell you myself later.”

She turned to him, her eyes furious and hands in fists. “That’s all you got to say for yourself? That you wanted to tell me? What would that change? I told you that I am only letting you go if you swear you’ll return. And now that you know you will die, you still want to go!”

“I told you. I need to prove-”

“Yes, prove to your father you are a real man. But who cares what he thinks? He abandoned his family! He left you for dead, Ivar. What do you have to prove, then, that he is a terrible person?”

Ivar shook his head and reached out for her, but Vanya stood her ground. So he sighed and dropped his hand in his lap. “What if you were in my place? What if you could prove to your parents that you were more than a womb? Wouldn’t you do everything to do it?”

Vanya laughed, trying to keep her tears at bay. “If it required me to die, I wouldn’t do it. All the people that matter, whose opinion matters, they are here. If you have to prove something to someone, then let it be Sigurd or Bjorn. Don’t sail to England, Ivar.”

“He left me to die. That’s why I have to show him I am more than a cripple or a burden. Mother might be wrong.”

“What if she isn’t?”

“Then, that’s a risk I have to take. I don’t want to hurt you or Aros, but I have to do this.”

Vanya crawled into bed with Ivar, putting the soiled swaddling clothes safely away. She kissed his forehead and lips smiling down at him with tear stains down her cheeks. “Promise me we will meet again. Be it in Kattegat or the afterlife. That we will find a way to be together forever.”

“I will visit you in Freyja’s hall every day, Min elskede (My beloved).” Vanya smiled at his declaration of love and kissed him before he left to gather his order from the blacksmith. If watching him leave now hurt, how much would it hurt when he left for real?

The grass under her skirt was still damp from the morning dew, and the air was heavy. Hoenir sat a distance away from her, sharpening his axe as Aros slept on his lap wrapped in furs. The sun was already up, and so were the people, including her husband, but Vanya was far too engrossed in her task to worry about anyone seeing her.

Vanya’s red locks framed around her, hiding her face as she lit two candles. “All-mother. Goddess Frigg, I beg of you. Please don’t take my husband away from me. I will do whatever you wish of me. You have protected me, and I ask you to do the same for Ivar. Goddess of marriage and motherhood, I beg of you.” Tears gathered in her eyes as her hands clenched into fists at her side, the nails drawing blood.

“Please, keep Ivar alive.” She sobbed pathetically, her head collapsing against the rock the candles were on. Her chest felt heavy like someone was sitting on it and choking her at the same time. What Aslaug told her this morning tore at her insides, messing with her head, and made her weak once again.

After all the hard work it took her to become braver and stronger, it took one conversation to make her go mad with grief. She allowed Ivar to go, encouraged him to go on a journey with his father. And now, just before he is to leave, the gods spoke to Aslaug. He will drown, the Queen saw it, and he still wants to go.

Ivar knew what the news would do to his mother and wife. But he insisted on going and made peace with death, not caring who he is leaving behind. How selfish of him, but Vanya can be selfish too. So she prayed to Frigg, begging her to save him from the peril that awaited him.

“I pray to you all the other gods. Please protect my husband. I beg for Ran to spare him, for Hlín’s protection and Odin’s favor. But I pray for your mercy All-mother. ”

Vanya propped her chin against the stone and looked at the flickering candles before her. “I know it is too much to ask for from you. But I will accept any help I can get even if you surely hate me now. I pray to you also. I am losing hope and don’t know who to turn to. Please…” The tears hit the cold surface of the stone while her voice shook, sobs cutting her off as she tried to compose herself. “Please, God. Protect Ivar.”

After all this time of devotion to the Norse gods, Vanya hit her lowest point. Kneeling on the grass in the middle of the day on a hill, praying to every god she knew. Oh, how the Aesir must hate you now, how fast the Princess turned her back on them when they asked for Ivar’s life. She just hopes they will forgive her and take pity on her misery.

“We should go; you have to get ready before they depart,” Hoenir called from behind her. Vanya sniffled and blew the candles out, sending out a silent prayer before leaving to redress. Let the gods be merciful, her old and new ones.

Watching the crew load their boats as Ragnar stood over them, looking on edge, was a painful sight. Aros whined in her arms, too, reaching for the headpiece she wore on her forehead, courtesy of Aslaug. She did as Ivar asked her to do last night and wore a red dress, looking as perfect as possible to burn her likeness into his mind.

Aslaug’s and her’s arms were linked together in support, both anxious to see Ivar go. Ragnar’s weird look towards something behind them warned them that Ivar is here. But when Vanya turned her head to look at her husband, instead of seeing him crawling on the ground, he was walking.

It looked like a lot of work, but with the aid of crutches, Ivar could stand upright somehow, even if he dragged his feet behind. She smiled proudly at him, overjoyed to see him able to do something he wanted to do his whole life. He truly was brilliant.

They watched Ivar walk onto the docks, struggling to lift his legs over the step, but he managed it in the end. Not like Vanya doubted him for a second. Aros whined once again, this time reaching for Ivar, who noticed the sound and looked towards them, freezing in his track. “You wore it.”

“Of course. I promised, didn’t I?” She grinned at him, tears threatening to spill from the corners of her eyes, but she stood there bravely. She spilled enough tears today; now, it was time to be brave and make it easier on him. “I prayed for your safe return, Hjertet mitt (My heart).”

Ivar looked at her surprised, after the time he caught her praying to the Christian god a long time ago, he expected her to take longer to adjust to the pagan ways. Considering she was against blood sacrifices, but apparently, he was wrong. “And to which god did you pray? The Æsir and Vanir or the Christian God?”

“Both.” Her shameless admission shocked everyone around her, especially those who knew of Ivar’s hate for anything Christian. “Just to be sure you would be well protected and return. I warned you I would hunt you down to the gates of Valhalla if I have to.”

Ivar smiled at her and said his goodbyes to her and Aros. After a few steps, his crutch got stuck between the floorboard, and he fell to the ground. Ubbe run to help him, but Aslaug stopped him, believing Ivar could do it himself. And he did. He ditched his new means of transportation and crawled to the boat where Ragnar awaited him.

“Hurry up. We’ve got a tide to catch.” Watching Ivar leave felt like hell, or what Vanya was taught hell looked like. But she still swelled with another emotion; the pain and pride went hand in hand, till the boats were too small to follow with the naked eye.

That’s also when Vanya returned to their hut to bathe Aros and put him to bed. Brynja filled a little tub with lukewarm water and left the Princess to herself. Vanya laid her babe into the water, carefully washing him as she hummed his lullaby to keep him calm.

The necklace of Jörmungandr that Ivar made for her dangled above his head, distracting him. He reached towards it and cooed adorably, making her smile. She remembered the story Ivar told her once.

“In the depths of the ocean, a giant serpent named Jörmungandr is biding his time. The child of the god Loki and Angroboda is so large; he can wrap his body around Midgard and hold the end of his tail in his mouth. His mouth, which is lined with venom-dripping teeth, is large enough to swallow a god or giant whole—Odin, fearful of the serpent banished into the waters of the world.”

Aros watched her talk, his eyes wide watching the dangling object above him. If he understood her or just liked the shiny metal, Vanya wasn’t sure. “Now he circles the world for eternity; every time he resurfaces, he is angrier. But he can’t escape the oceans till his time comes. When the world is ending, Jörmungandr will take a stand against Thor once more. He will escape the sea, drowning everything in his path, and his breath will poison the sky.”

She pulled him out of the tub and wrapped him into a cloth to dry him off. Sitting on her and Ivar’s bed, she looked down at her son’s sleepy eyes. “But Thor will finally triumph over the beast, smashing him with his hammer, only to die afterward. Both winning and losing at the same time in the end. But for now, he is still in the sea, waiting, fuming at his punishment.”

Vanya laid down on her side, her son laying on Ivar’s half of the bed. She smiled at his peaceful expression and closed her own eyes, unaware of the horrors Ivar faced out on the sea ruled by the serpent she just spoke of.


	4. Anyone can betray anyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Ivar is away, Vanya does everything to keep her mind off his possible death, meanwhile Aslaug faces an enemy from the past.

It was the middle of the night as they sat in a circle; some of the women were familiar, others weren’t, but they all shared the same goal. They all prayed for their families to return from raiding alive and well. No matter if they went to the Mediterranean with Bjorn and Hvitserk or to England with Ragnar and Ivar, the women of the family prayed to the gods.

Hoenir sacrificed a goat and smeared the blood over their faces as they prayed to Thor for strength. Ever since the Ragnarssons left, Aslaug has been distant, and Vanya feared the Queen felt Ivar die.

And so distracted herself from these thoughts by spending time with the common folk. Prayer circles visit the orphanage, or just strolls through the marker; Vanya was always surrounded by people. But inside, she felt hollow just like the rest of them, Aros being her only source of joy. 

Ubbe joked that the babe would be able to walk by the time Ivar came back, as he’s very eager to stand. Of course, he can’t do it independently, but he has no problem holding himself up if you hold him. And Vanya was very proud of that.

Right now, the Ivarsson is with his grandmother, who asked to look after him for a little bit. The request was sudden, but Vanya was very happy that the Queen was feeling a bit better.

“Are you alright, Princess Vanya?” questioned an old woman, she had gray hair and looked worn down, but she came to every prayer circle. Her two grandsons left with Bjorn and her son joined Ragnar.

“Of course, a little bit dizzy from the sigh of blood. But I am alright.” The woman didn’t believe her at all and put her withered hand on top of Vanya’s.

“The gods aren’t always just, but they listen to the prayers and act on them if they are pleased. You have pleased the gods since the ships left; you should rest a little bit too. Or you will wear yourself thin.”

Vanya chuckled and shook her head at the answer. “I will be fine. The gods will hear our prayers and help us. Everything will be alright.”

Not so far away from Vanya’s place of blissful denial, Lagertha was hatching plans. “I am taking Kattegat back. Aslaug isn’t fit to be Queen.”

“What about Ragnar’s sons?” Astrid asked her lover, curious about what will become of the boys.

“Born of a witch.” The shieldmaiden replied simply, stroking her own like a conversation about the weather and not about usurping a Queen.

“They are still his sons.”

Lagertha looked at Astrid with solemn eyes and stood up from her seat. “Bjorn, Hvitserk, and Ivar are all gone.”

“But Ubbe and Sigurd remain. Are you going to kill them too?”

Luckily for them, Torvi had the perfect solution in the form of Margrethe. But one thing remained unclear to Astrid. “What of Vanya? What will happen to her?”

“We can’t hurt her. She is the sole heir to a kingdom in England. If she dies as well, they will sail to our shores and demand vengeance.” Lagertha’s words held a tone of anger in them. They tried to pull the Princess to their side on the feast, but her mind was too warped by Aslaug’s witchy ways. Just like Ragnar’s had been.

“She will remain where she is, we just have to make sure she won’t interfere, and no harm comes to her or Aros,” Torvi suggested looking at her mother in law for approval. When Lagertha asked for an explanation, the younger blonde was happy to provide it. “For leverage against Ivar.”

Margrethe nodded at this and looked at Lagertha unsurely. “When Vanya went missing, he lost his mind. If she and the babe are safe, he won’t be so angry. She calms him sometimes.”

“Then it’s decided. Now, enough questions. I have to talk to Torvi.”

Vanya entered the Queen’s chambers to retrieve Aros right after the prayer circle. When she saw Aslaug sitting on her bed, holding her grandson close with sad eyes, she didn’t know what to say. “I always wanted a daughter. I am thankful for all of my sons and love them very much. But sometimes I wondered what it would be like to have a daughter.”

Vanya walked closer to the bed, sitting down next to Aslaug to watch Aros sleep. He looked just like Ivar when he slept, serene and innocent with a little frown and scrunched up nose. At least he slept easier than before.

“When the marriage offer came in, and it said they choose Ivar, I was worried. I wanted him to find somebody worthy of him, who would love him just as much as I do. And then this little scared Christian came in, and I was so angry that he would have to marry her. But she showed her true colors little by little. Suddenly there wasn’t a scared girl who would bring his boredom and misery. The Princess didn’t judge him and even grew to love him over time.”

Vanya smiled at the Queen’s kind words; no matter how much it hurt to remember Ivar and his possible fate, it warmed her heart to hear about him nonetheless. “I gained a daughter thanks to a monster from another place far from here. A daughter I grew to love even more when she gave me a grandson. Even if I lost a son, I gained two more people to care for. And I am very thankful for that.”

She looked up to show her tearstained face and laid her palm against Vanya’s equally teary face. “I want you to know that you are a part of this family, blood or not. You are my daughter, and Aros is my grandson. And nothing can or ever will change that.”

“Why are you saying all this?”

Aslaug smiled and hugged her close, hiding her face in Vanya’s neck. If it weren’t for the closeness, she wouldn’t be able to have heard the Queen’s next words. “I thought it needed to be said. We never know when we might draw our last breath. Ubbe and Sigurd went on a visit, and you are the only family that remains here. We should stick together.”

Vanya nodded and hugged the woman tighter. “Of course. Do you want me to stay the night?”

“I would love that.”

Hoenir walked the path around the village with a horn of ale in one hand, his other resting on his new sword. His morning walk towards Ivar’s and Vanya’s hut was always pleasant. Usually, he took a walk around town first, but today something felt off. So he chose to go straight to their home.

The atmosphere around him made Hoenir uneasy and on edge. He felt like prey in the lion’s den, just waiting to be swallowed by the bigger animal lurking around the corner. His visions have been horrifying for some time now, and he couldn’t make sense of them.

Yesterday he came with his worries to Aslaug, waiting for an explanation, but the Völva told him not to worry. The Seer wasn’t of any help either, and so he was left to solve it on his own.

The visions of blood and carnage weren’t anything new to him. Destruction was where he was, or better said, he followed it. The Gods sent him where blood was shed, and he did what they asked. In some places, he helped the sick; in others, he slaughtered enemies. Here, he protected a Princess.

Not his most admirable work, but the easiest so far. Looking after Vanya was a challenge, and unfortunately, he was more used to a routine. The ginger preferred to vary her tasks between charity, sewing, or visiting Helga and Floki. She liked to do things spontaneously, and he had to follow. So he implemented routines where he could, morning walks at dawn, a tavern in the evening, training before bed.

But these visions were foreign to him; never before did he dream of owls on thrones or burning ships. He tried every approach to deciphering the pieces he had, but the meaning was still unclear.

He entered Vanya’s hut without knocking; without Ivar home, the chances of his seeing something he wouldn’t want to see are slim. But the house was empty, and the fireplace was cold. “Fuck.”

He runs out of the hut, making his way to the Great Hall, but the snapping of a twig startles him. “Who’s there? I don’t have time for games, so show yourself.”

Eight women with shields and swords walked out from behind the huts, glaring at him as if he offended them. The shields were painted with the colors of Lagertha’s Earldom. “I would say I am shocked, but that would be a lie.”

The women charged at him as he drew both of his swords, fighting them off. He cut through two easily, but an arrow flew from somewhere, hitting him in the shoulder. The remaining six women used the opportunity to disarm him, another well-aimed arrow to his knee, putting him to his knees.

Hoenir looked up to the rooftop from where the arrow came from to see a blonde woman standing there, notching another arrow. “Torvi.” A shield hit him over the head right after he felt a pain in his tight and a hit to his jaw. And then everything went black; he collapsed into the mud.

Aros whined in Vanya’s arms as Aslaug got dressed for her meeting with the Usurper Lagertha. The woman invaded Kattegat to become Queen, and Vanya would rather they escape than face the shieldmaiden that could kill Aslaug in the blink of an eye.

But Aslaug was determined to face her husband’s first wife; she could see it in her stance and eyes. This made Vanya wonder if yesterday’s sentiment was because of today’s situation. Aslaug turned to Vanya with the sword of Kings in her hands and walked towards the shaken ginger.

She pulled Vanya to her, a hand on the back of her head, and leaned closer to her ear. “Be brave, Vanya. If you let them see fear, you let them win. Be invincible.” With that, Aslaug pulled away and kissed her forehead, leaving the Great Hall surrounded by warriors with Vanya and Aros in the rear. Hoenir was gods know where, which made her worry for his safety.

Maybe he was fighting outside, and they will arrive to see Lagertha’s corpse in the middle of the street. With unsure steps, Vanya walked behind the confident Queen, praying for everything to end soon. They stayed behind as Aslaug walked through the cheering crowd to the blond shieldmaiden.

The sight behind Lagertha made Vanya’s breath hitch. Some shieldmaiden’s had Hoenir captured, his face bloody and body impaled by three arrows.He was breathing heavily, kneeling in the dirt with a pool of blood under him. Tears gathered in her eyes when she saw him; he looked half dead.

They pulled the hood of his head to show Aslaug what happened to one of her best fighters. But to their surprise, Aslaug stood her ground, looking at the seasoned shieldmaiden before her.

“How strange, Lagertha, that you would play the usurper. One woman against another. It doesn’t quite fit with your reputation.”

“I was never the usurper. Always the usurped.” She put her sword away, watching the other Queen with determined eyes. “You took my husband, my world, and my happiness. The fact that you are a woman is neither here nor there.”

“I didn’t take your husband. He chose to be with me.”

“He didn’t choose. You’re a witch. You bewitched him.” Even from afar, Lagertha’s serious face and tone made Vanya take a double-take. What’s more believable, that the Völva used magic to make Ragnar sleep with her, or that he cheated because he met a pretty girl far away from his wife? Honestly, Ragnar didn’t strike Vanya as a man who would fall for magic. The pretty girl was more believable.

Even Aslaug couldn’t help but giggle at the absurdity of the claim. “If that’s what you want to believe, it’s up to you. I don’t disagree women can have power over men. But it’s not always magical, is it, Lagertha? In any case,” Aslaug looked around the crowd and raised her voice so they could all hear her next words. “Ragnar is dead.”

The crowd gasped and talked among themselves in a mix of confusion, shock, and disbelief. “You don’t know that.” Lagertha accused Aslaug, not wanting to face the possibility he was actually gone.

“I dreamed it. I warned him about his journey. In my dream, his boats were sunk in a storm. Ragnar died.” The Queen's face saddened, and Aros whined in Vanya’s arms. “So did my son, Ivar.”

“But you don’t know that.” The desperation on Lagertha’s side was obvious. Aslaug averted her gaze as if she was thinking before looking back up at her with a tilted head.

“No. I don’t know that for sure. It was just a dream.” The people whispered while Lagertha glared at the woman who taunted her in a dire situation. Hoenir looked towards the direction where the crying of a baby came from to see Vanya. He opened his mouth to call out to her, but Torvi dug her nails into his shoulder wound, silencing him.

Lagertha’s eyes were tearful, and her voice honest as she steered back to the topic at hand. “And I have dreamed of taking back my home. I have dreamed it for a long time. But if I have to fight for it, then I will.”

Aslaug smirked in amusement. “Don’t worry. I could never fight you, Lagertha. I am not my mother, nor yet my father. I would never win.” She threw the sword of Kings to the ground, raising up the murmurs once again. “But still, I have fulfilled my destiny. The gods foretold Ragnar would have many sons. And I have given him those sons. I am as much a part of his saga, Lagertha, as you are. But now I renounce everything.”

The crowd kept getting louder as Aslaug continued her jabs at the usurper, finding the whole ordeal amusing in a sense. After all, when Ivar was born, they seemed to have made up, only for Lagertha to change her mind seventeen years later.

“All I ask is a safe passage. All I ask is that you let me, my daughter Vanya and my grandson leave here in peace, to go wherever the gods decide. And you shall have back your hearth and home…” Aaslaug preened at the shocked shieldmaiden. “With my blessing. And my sons, when they hear how it was done, will be grateful for the manner of it… And not seek revenge.”

Lagertha nodded at the reminder of Aslaug’s three living sons. “I understand.” She moved out of Aslaug’s way, Vanya running up behind her so they could leave together. Aslaug motioned for the ginger to walk in front of her, thanking the new Queen of Kattegat.

The two women and babe walked forward bravely, heads held high. A swissing sound and Aslsaug stopping made Vanya halt as well. She turned around to see Aslaug collapse to her knees with a smile on her face, Lagertha standing behind her with a bow in her hand.

“NO!” Vanya run towards her mother in law, catching her in her arms, Aros crying hysterically in his sling. She pulled the Queen tighter to her, laying her head against her shoulder as she tried to put pressure on the wound in her back. “No, no, no. You can’t die, you can’t die.”

But she could feel the lack of heartbeat and the sticky blood on her hand, the dead weight of her mother figure a painful truth. “No.” Vanya sobbed into her shoulder, raising her eyes to meet Lagetha’s, the satisfaction in the blue eyes of the last nail in her coffin.

She watched the blonde with disgust and hate in her eyes, wishing she would burst into flames on the spot, giving her the most painful death imaginable. “You…” She spat the words out, tears streaming down her face, failing to hold up the corpse any longer.

Carefully she laid her down on the ground, guards running up to her to haul her away from the body. Vanya struggled against them, screaming her throat raw, just like her son against her chest. But it was no use as they dragged her away, Aslaug laying on the cold ground, alone.

Vanya did as Aslaug ordered her to do; she hid her fear and resentment under a mask of power and pride. Lagertha watched her walk to the shore; the ginger had her hair loose and was dressed in black from head to toe. A golden crown rested on her head, big dangly earrings, and a golden necklace around her neck.

The funeral was a miserable affair; the moment they lit the boat, it felt like a part of Vanya died. As if she crawled into the ship and curled herself around the horse head, burning alive alongside Aslaug’s corpse.

The Queen looked as magnificent as she did while alive, finally free of all the burdens that came with marrying Ragnar Lothbrok. Vanya stood alongside the shores, surrounded by shieldmaidens, a prisoner. Brynja was forbidden anywhere near her, and she never felt more alone. Hoenir was being taken care of by some healers; the only one she had left was Aros.

Her son hated the scene as much as her, clutching her black dress in his tiny fists, hiccuping in between sobs. Humming a lullaby into his ear didn’t help either. She wondered if he understood what happened or what danger they were in now.

She may have walked onto the shore surrounded by Aslaug’s guards, but a nod from the new Queen made them abandon her, Lagertha’s warriors surrounding her instead. Their loyalties lay with the new ruler, which meant that if she ordered Vanya’s death, no one would try to stop her.

Vanya’s head was on the chopping block, the axe dangling over her head. But she had to hide her fear, look as if she was at peace with death, or hid an ace in her sleeve. But she was powerless; the only thing she has is her courage.

Lagertha stood away from her, smiling in satisfaction, unbothered by Vanya’s hateful stare. This time, Vanya didn’t pray for her demise; she wished she could kill the bitch herself. An eye for an eye, a life for a life.

By the time Ubbe and Sigurd returned, everything was in chaos. Asluag was buried, and Lagertha sat on her throne. “Where’s our mother?”

“She’s dead, Ubbe.” She replied nonchalantly, causing the two brothers to look at her in shock. They refused to go to England with Ragnar to protect Kattegat and their mother and failed both. “I killed her.”

“Why?” The question was soft and laced with confusion and hurt. Despite being the oldest, Ubbe felt useless, helpless. He left her and signed her death sentence in return.

“She took Kattegat away from me. I wanted it back.” Torvi and Astrid watched the Ragnarsson curiously, waiting for them to attack. Ubbe drew his weapon, and just as fast, the rest of the hall did as well.

Sigurd tried to hold him back, knowing it would be futile and would probably result in their deaths as well. “Where’s Vanya and Aros? What did you do to them?” He asked, looking around the hall for his nephew and sister in law, but couldn’t see them.

“They are alive, but not here. I do not know where they are.”

“Why didn’t you also have us killed?” Sigurd asked again, trying to make sense of Lagertha’s plan. Did she really think they wouldn’t avenge their mother? No matter how strained his relationship with her was, Lagertha’s actions would hold consequences.

Sitting on her throne of lies, Lagertha smiled somewhat smugly. “This was nothing to do with you. You are Ragnar’s sons. It was not your fault that your father was bewitched.”

Ubbe pointed his dagger towards her, spitting words like venom. “It was a mistake not to kill us.”

“That’s a chance I was prepared to take.” Ubbe turned his back to the new Queen, dropping his coat and charging towards her. Sigurd was held back by numerous warriors with swords to his throat as his brother fought his way to Lagertha.

He would have made it if it were not for Astrid stepping in and the others using the chance to pin him to the ground. Lagertha watched the Ragnarsson growling on the floor like a feral beast, worry evident in her eyes.

Sigurd and Ubbe left the Great Hall, the older of the two beaten up pretty badly. Brynja watched them go, taking the dark alley’s between the houses to stay out of the usurper’s sight. Striding after them, she picked up a pebble and threw it at Sigurd’s head, startling the young Prince.

He turned around in shock to see her red hair in the alley, mentioning for him to come closer, he pulled his brother after him. “Brynja? What do you want?”

The ginger rolled her blue eyes and took both by the hand, leading them through the less crowded ways, taking various turns to shake off any followers. In the end, they reached a farm on top of a hill, hushed voices spoke inside the hut. “We were worried that they killed you too. Luckily, the Gods heard some of Vanya’s prayers.”

“You know where she is?” Ubbe questioned the servant earnestly only to ear a shushing sound and a nod. When the door opened, they were greeted by a bearded man with a bow pointed at them.

“Put it down, father. The Ragnarssons are back.”

“Thank the Gods.” He lowered the weapon and allowed them in. Behind a curtain in the kitchen were hushed voices by candlelight. One belonged to their sister in law, which made them sigh in victory.

“Vanya!” Sigurd called out, pulling back the curtain to see the Saxon Princess on her knees with an older woman by her side, tending to someone on a bed of furs. The someone was barechested, with bandages over his shoulder and pants ripped in some places to give access to his other wounds. “Is that Hoenir?”

“Arrow wounds, bruises, a broken nose, and two broken fingers, cuts, and scrapes all over as well. They beat him in the morning, left him on the ground to bleed out.” Vanya explained, wringing the bloody cloth in a basin of water.

“Will he be ok?” Sigurd questioned, walking closer to his friend’s bedside. The two men grew close over time, bonding over their love for music and Vanya. Hoenir was a good listener and gave wise advice when needed; it would be a shame if he died like this instead of the battlefield. A man like him deserved Valhalla.

Vanya bandaged another wound on the knee as the older woman wiped his face clean, and Brynja moved to find him some new clothes. “If the Gods’s will it. We gave him tea to put him to sleep. But it’s up to his strength and the Gods if he lives.”

“We should move him.” Ubbe declared, looking down at his sister to see her crying, eyes bloodshot, and Aros sleeping on another fur next to Hoenir. “I am sorry we left.”

“She shot her Ubbe.” Vanya sobbed out, looking at the beaten-up man in desperation. As if Ubbe could bring Aslaug back from the dead. “After renouncing everything and asking safe passage! Lagertha shot her in the back. I felt her die in my arms…”


	5. I can be your enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Aslaug’s death leaves Vanya shaken and hollow while the brother’s talk of revenge and Hoenir tries to recover

Vanya felt like a passenger in her own body. As if someone tore a part of her soul out and left the body behind to carry on living. Ivar and Aslaug were dead. Ivar drowned out on the sea just like Aslaug saw, and the woman herself was murdered in cold blood.

How happy Vanya was in her new life, so content with what she gained. Maybe this was God’s punishment for turning her back on him and the religion. Vanya couldn’t voice how she felt. It was as if all her happiness was ripped out of her and replaced with sadness and anger—neither big enough to fill the hole, leaving her partially empty.

Her son was all that was left of her new life; the babe was more vocal about his feelings. Since they moved into the Ragnarsson’s hunting hut, Aros has been crying and screaming non-stop.

And no matter what she tried, he just kept on being upset. Never before did she feel this useless as a mother, not even able to ask anyone for help. Ubbe and Sigurd arguing about revenge wasn’t helping either.

“She never loved us. She only loved Ivar. Oh, yeah, and Harbard. Yes, she loved Harbard, all right. She made a fool of herself loving him. You should have seen her!”

“Ah, you forget I did see,” Ubbe replied to his brother. His face looking horrifying from the beating he took earlier.

Sigurd moved closer to the fire, looking at his brother in earnest. “Do you think Harbard was a god? Was he a god, Ubbe? Or just a man?”

Ubbe took a deep breath to compose himself and looked away from his younger brother. “He took advantage.”

“I guess that doesn’t matter either way.”

“She was still our mother!” The eldest Aslaugsson reminded him sternly. Done with Sigurd’s attitude towards the late Queen.

Moving back, he looked down at his hands, his eyes misty and voice sad. “By the end, she was a stranger to me.”

“Was she a witch?” Vanya scoffed at the ridiculous question ignoring their questioning looks.

“We’ll never know.”

With the help of his axe, the injured Viking got to his feet, groaning in pain from the various cuts and bruises. “Ah, well… Lagertha must pay the price.”

“Let Ivar kill her if he wants to.”

“If he’s still alive.” Ubbe watched his sister in law stiffen as soon as the words left his lips. Proving his theory might be true.

“What?”

“Both of our parents may be dead. We may have just become orphans, Sigurd.” Laughing, Sigurd leaned back on the furs around the fire. “What are you laughing at?”

“Our father isn’t dead, Ubbe. Ragnar Lothbrok can’t die.”

“Dead or not, it doesn’t matter.” Vanya finally spoke up, pulling Aros away from her breast and fixing her dress. “Aslaug must be avenged, if not for the fact that she was your mother then for your honor. You keep reminding everyone that you are the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok. But you hide here like a coward. You are letting Lagertha get away with it.”

Sigurd rolled his eyes at her, not bothering to hold back despite her glare. “She is surrounded by shieldmaidens who already beat Ubbe once. How are we supposed to fight her?”

“With an army. Aslaug was a Götaland Princess; I am sure there are people loyal to her, ready to aid her sons on their quest to revenge. You are the only ones who can do what’s right by her memory.” Vanya pressed on desperately, kneeling next to Sigurd’s frame by the fire.

“What about Ivar? Don’t tell me you think he is dead too? I pegged you as the last one to give up on him.”

Vanya sat back on her heels with a sigh and looked at her hands as Aros crawled up next to her, whining for attention. “He is not here, but you two are. We need to gather an army in the shadows. Keep Lagertha on her toes, but don’t look like too much of a threat to her.”

She could have told them what Aslaug saw happen to both Ragnar and Ivar. But they had enough grief for now. Let them focus on avenging Aslaug first; they can do as they chose about Ragnar’s death later.

Sigurd scoffed and pointed at the panting seer on their furs. Unconscious and beaten, Hoenir looked like a shadow of what he once was. The shieldmaidens would pay for that too. He was more to Vanya than a protector; he was her friend. And his current state would be avenged as well.

“Look what they did to Hoenir! Do you really think that Lagertha will let us live? We will be watched like prisoners in our home. Just because it was once her home too.” Sigurd spat out again, annoyed with the topic. He didn’t want to waste his life on revenge and bloodshed.

He hoped Vanya would understand his point; after all, she was a pacifist. And now, suddenly, she was as bloodthirsty as Ivar. “Are you sure you want to spill blood for Mother? If I do as you wish, will you be able to stomach the battles and bloodshed?”

“If it means doing what’s right… I will stab the bitch myself.” Vanya confessed, her voice hard and eyes like steel. Ubbe watched his sister in law and nodded in agreement.

“Then, it is decided. Lagertha will fall.” He raised his cup for a toast and looked down at his brother. “Right Sigurd?”

With a reluctant sight, Sigurd raised a cup towards him. “May her reign be short.”

Vanya tended to Hoenir the rest of the night. The tall man was feverish and mumbling in his sleep; the words were hard to understand, so she ignored them. Dabbing at his sweaty forehead with a wet cloth was all she could do right now—hoping that he will survive the night.

When Sigurd woke the next morning, it was to the sight of Lagertha’s lover sitting on one bed. He kicked his brother awake, startling the sleeping princess as well. Her head rose from Hoenir’s bedside, Aros whining in his crib as well.

“What?”

“Oh, do not get up. I am Astrid.” The black-haired shieldmaiden replied cooly, watching Vanya push the now awake Hoenir back down. The wanderer suffered many wounds, and Lagertha was certain that he would die because of them. What a surprise to see him up and ready to fight. A strange man indeed.

The brothers exchanged a look, not at all alerted by the intruder in their hut. “We know who you are.” Sigurd reminded her, confused by her introduction. “But why are you here?”

Astrid folded her legs over each other and cupped her hands on her knee. “One day, I would like to change the way you look.”

Everyone watched her, confused and sleepy. And definitely not in the mood for small talk with the enemy. “What?”

“I am making it my business to make friends with the sons of Ragnar.” She trailed her eyes over to Vanya and her glare. “And his grandson and daughter in law as well, of course.”

Ubbe smirked in the same way his father does and scoffed at the big reveal. “Forgive me, Astrid. But I am afraid that we…”

“Yes. You should be afraid.” Astrid cut him off, all playfulness and charm gone. “That’s what I came to tell you. If you touch a hair on Lagertha’s head… You are dead men.”

Astrid rose to leave as Ubbe watched her amused, and Sigurd’s confusion hit the roof. Meanwhile, Vanya wished to see Astrid and the rest of Lagertha’s entourage to drop dead. Including the treacherous Torvi that nearly killed Hoenir and probably passed the bow to the new Queen of Kattegat to kill Aslaug.

Ubbe threw his cup against the door to stop her. “Do you really think that if I am not afraid of Lagertha, then I would be afraid of you?” Astrid glared at him, offended by his lack of fear and respect for Lagertha.

“Leave, bitch!” Ordered Vanya standing over Hoenir with a sword in hand. The seer’s blade was heavy for her untrained hands, her whole arm shaking.

Astrid rolled her eyes at the ginger’s theatrics and pointed her finger towards the weapon. “Put the blade down before you hurt yourself, Princess.” The last word was spat out in a patronizing way, the same way Silas used to call her - sister. “You don’t know how to use it.”

“Maybe not.” She shrugged her shoulders, smiling cheerfully before the grimace fell from her face. “But I know that if I push the pointy end in deep enough, I will finally have some peace and quiet. So leave before I try my hand in the fighting.”

The older woman shook her head in humor and raised her arms in the air. “I am unarmed. From what I heard, you wouldn’t harm a defenseless woman. Your kind heart doesn’t allow it.”

“If it befits a queen, why not me? Maybe I will let you turn your back to me as well.” Vanya spat, reminding Astrid that she is a threat as well. Lagertha made the wrong enemy by killing Aslaug. The Queen’s sons might forget, but Vanya never would. She was of the House of the Raising Sun, and they never forgot. “And don’t concern yourself with my gentle heart. It turns vicious when challenged. Ask my brother of what consequences that holds.”

With that, Astrid left, slamming the door behind her. The young mother dropped Hoenir’s sword to pick her son up and soothe him. “What happened to keep a low profile?”

She turned her back to the door and frowned at Ubbe. “I am honoring your mother’s memory, showing them that I am not afraid or weak. I am Vanya of the Raising Sun. Only living heir to Osmond, King of Slegia and Wrosan. I am the wife of Ivar the Boneless, son of Ragnar Lothbrok. I bore him a grandson, and I will not be bested by a greedy old crone and her mouthy lover.”

Vanya stomped out of the hut, Sigurd watching her go, still half asleep. They looked at Hoenir, who snorted in amusement. “You take one nap, and all of a sudden, Vanya turns into mini Ivar.”

Hoenir hit the target over and over, his anger flaring with every strike he made. “Not good enough. Not good enough. Not good enough.” The words echoed around in his mind, trapping him in a prison of self-hate and dissapointment.

His wounds screamed in protest as the blisters on his hands opened and bled. But the pain didn’t matter. He failed to do his duty, and Aslaug died because of it. What if the usurper decided to kill Vanya and Aros as well? Then his journey would have been for naught, and all his promises of protection just empty words.

Hoenir needs to get better, stronger, and more reliable. So no one could defeat him again. The Gods had a plan for him; everybody said so since he was a small boy. Did he become too comfortable that they chose to punish him? Or was it just a coincidence that he was reading into too much?

“For someone who has been up for two days, you are working too hard. Carry on like this, and you will drop dead!” Vanya’s tired voice was the last thing he wanted to hear right now. The princess has been nagging him about his health since the day Hoenir woke up to see Astrid in the hut.

She cared for him, and as nice as it was, it was also very distracting. His duty laid with keeping her alive, not himself. With a fleeting glance towards the hut, he saw her leaning against the door frame in her nightgown. Her red hair was down and a little bit messy from sleep.

Sigurd walked up behind her, lacing up his breeches while eating bread. The Ragnarsson looked like a mess as well, but his hair was always hard to look at, so Hoenir ignored it. “How long have you been up?”

“Hard to say. I woke in the night.” Vanya frowned at the reply and walked over the damp grass towards him. Lowering his sword, he tried to scold her for walking around barefoot but got dragged into the hut instead.

“I have no time for this, Vanya. I need to train.”

“You can train later! If you open your wounds, who knows if you survive them. I won’t see you die, Hoenir.” The ginger scolded him kneeling down in front of him with a wet cloth to clean his bloody palms.

Ubbe sat by the table, holding a squirming Aros in his knee. The Ragnarsson’s face had linen with herbs under to make the swelling of his face go down faster. “As much as we are happy to see you back in fighting spirit. Why the rush? We agreed to wait and make a plan first.”

Hoenir scoffed and looked down at his calloused hands with the bloody scabs. “I was beaten so easily. All it took was three arrows, and they had me at their mercy. If they slit my throat, I would be dead by now.”

“If you keep this up, you will be dead in a fortnight.” Sigurd reminded him, looking at the barely healed scar on his shoulder.

“Maybe that’s the punishment I deserve for being a failure. An unhonorable death that will ban me from Valhalla.”

The slap that hit him in the face stung, but the pain felt good. He deserved to suffer far worse for letting Aslaug die. The woman believed him when he told her about his destiny of protecting Vanya. She practically saved him from dying by Ivar’s hand. All the hospitality and trust she had given him, he repaid by letting her die.

“I understand some of what you feel but don’t say those things. I command you to think better of yourself. No one is to blame but that blonde bitch and her minions.”

“Vanya is right. Torvi impaled you with arrows; they knocked you out. At least you fought back. If anyone’s to blame, then it is me. We let ourselves be fooled and seduced. I stayed behind to protect my mother and failed.” Ubbe rasped out, glaring into his second cup of the day.

Hoenir shook his head and hanged his head in shame. “I was supposed to be at your door. Keeping you safe just like I promised I would. You slept in Aslaug’s bed. If I stayed by your side, I could have prevented her death.”

Sigurd sighed at the self-hate talk of his friend. For someone so quiet, he had a lot of bad things to say about himself. “No one will blame you for sleeping in your home, Hoenir.”

“That’s not it…” He trembled as the words left his mouth, leaving a new wave of shame over him. “I wasn’t there because I spent the night in someone’s bed.”

Sigurd snorted at that and put a reasuring hand on his healthy shoulder. “So did we. But we weren’t so secretive about it. Whose bed was it?”

“His name is Leifr.”

The room grew quiet as they watched the seer’s shirtless hunched over frame. His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white and shaking. “Ah, that explains his looks at you. He looks pretty enough.” Sigurd shrugged it off, not caring if his friend liked men or not.

Hoenir looked up from his lap to meet eyes with the Ragnarsson, who gave him a reassuring smile in return. “You… aren’t disgusted by me?”

“Why the hell would we? You like men Hoenir, not corpses.” Ubbe snorted at his brother’s retort and raised his cup in a silent toast of approval. Even Vanya smiled at the wanderer in compassion. If he expected backlash from anyone, it would be a former Christian.

“We all like different things. And sometimes it is hard to explain why we want the people we like. I love a violent man with mood swings, and you like men in general. Ubbe, Sigurd, and Hvitserk sleep with the same woman. No one judges any of us, why should they judge you?”

“Skol, to that!” Sigurd called out as everyone sipped from their cups. Hoenir is sitting there stunned looked at them in disbelief.

“So… you won’t throw me out? Shun me?”

“You are our friend,” Sigurd explained nonchalantly.

“Practically, family.” Added Vanya in glee, picking up Aros in her arms to feed him.

“We do not know who made you reluctant to tell us. But we don’t care at all. Do what you like or whoever you like. So do we. Right, Sigurd?” The brothers nodded at each other as Hoenir swallowed to ease his dry throat and thanked them in return. Taking a cup from the oud player’s hands, he downed the whole thing in one gulp.

The last time he had told anyone that he was into men, he had been thrown out of his home. Ever since then, he wandered the earth, trying to find a place to fit in. After years of trying, he settled for following the will of the gods and hiding his secret from everyone.

Leifr had no problem hiding his true nature, and when he saw Hoenir talking with Sigurd, he came to steal him away. At first, they just talked, and later on, the talking led them to Leifr’s bed.

The boy kept their meetings a secret, and at Hoenir’s request, stayed away from where they could be seen. For someone who had no problem being called an Ergi, he was very considerate of his lover’s feelings.

After breakfast, Vanya went out with Aros to take care of something; she and Hoenir talked pleasantly. The seer’s mind was still in turmoil from earlier, but slowly the tension left his body, and a small shred of happiness took its place.

“I have plans for today.”

“And what might those be?”

Vanya smirked at the innocent question, her smile a little bit mocking. “I am honoring Aslaug’s memory.”

“And how will you do that?”

“Wait and see.”

Ubbe and Sigurd sat in Lagertha’s hall, drinking her mead and scheming. The woman looked too comfortable on their mother’s throne. And if their plans came to be, Ubbe would be the new king of Kattegat.

The boy wasn’t all that interested in the crown, but as the oldest of Aslaug’s sons, it was rightfully his. Sigurd had no taste for revenge or ruling, and Hvitserk was more of an explorer than a diplomat. Ivar was too young and ill-tempered to sit where their father once sat.

Out of all of Aslaug’s sons, Ivar is probably the most hellbent on avenging their mother. Telling him of their mother’s demise when he returns means Lagertha’s certain death. But if he were to rule, only the gods know what would happen to their home.

Vanya might be able to lessen his temper, but ruling and raising children is a hard business. Ubbe saw it break his mother; he wouldn’t wish the same fate upon his sister. She also told Stithulf that she had no desire to rule anyway. So leaving the killing and crown to Ivar would mean chaos. As the oldest, it was his responsibility to avenge Aslaug and take over ruling Kattegat.

When Sigurd opened his mouth to tell Ube something, a commotion from outside cut him off. Everyone’s heads turned towards the door where the noise was coming from. “All hail the rightful Queen.” “Gods protect her!” “Thank you for everything!” “Long may she live!”

The people yelled from outside, causing Lagertha to smile at all the praise she was getting. “How quick they are to turn against mother,” Ubbe growled in distaste, rising to see the crowd outside.

Lagertha stood up as well, excited to see her loyal followers. But when the doors to the Great hall opened, the crowd had its backs turned to her. Instead, they applauded someone in the middle of the group who was giving out something. With a furrowed brow, Lagertha and the Ragnarssons watched the people.

“That’s Hoenir!” Whispered Sigurd to his brother, pointing to the middle of the crowd. And true enough, the seer stood there stoic as ever, surrounded by cheering citizens.

“Thank the gods for you!”

“May the gods give you many more children!”

“All hail the Princess!”

“All hail the rightful Queen of Kattegat!!”

Ubbe scoffed in amusement at the second to last sentence; it was obvious who the cheers were meant for. Vanya stood in the crowd handing out bundles of food, coin, and clothes. Smiling at everyone and wishing them well.

“People of Kattegat! I swear to you that no matter what may come, I will always stand by your side! You shall not hunger or freeze as long as I have the means to help you!”

The crowd cheered out Vanya’s name, calling her a gift from the gods. But the most memorable part was that more people named her their rightful Queen. Lagertha looked like she might implode from anger.

But Vanya didn’t correct them once; she only continued to gift them with things and wish them well. She talked to the people and hugged their children. The longer she stood there, the more people seemed to love her.

“I sweat it on the gods! Just because the Queen’s dead doesn’t mean that I will stop helping you. Nothing has changed. May Thor strike me dead if I am lying!”

A child ran up to Vanya, asking her to be picked up. Vanya called the child by name and lifted the girl into her arms and kissed her temple. The smile on her lips turned into a scowl when her eyes met Lagertha’s. The princess spat on the ground in distaste and turned back to the people to entertain the crowds.

Ubbe smirked next to Sigurd and slapped him on the shoulder. “Keep her on her toes.”

The younger Ragnarsson smirked as well and shook his head. “She also said we should stay in the shadows. Not blatantly question her authority.”

“Driving her insane and insecure might do the trick as well.” Lagertha walked towards the younger female, looking like a murderer on the loose. Which she, ironically enough, actually was.

The shieldmaidens shooed the crowds away, Lagertha meeting Vanya in the middle, only Hoenir by her side. “For someone so young, your memory isn’t the best.”

“Why do you think so?” The ginger feigned innocence and obliviousness. Acting as if she wasn’t trying to undermine Lagertha’s rule moments ago.

“The Queen isn’t dead. I am right here.” The blonde’s face hid anger behind a friendly facade. “And you aren’t the queen either.”

Vanya shrugged her shoulders and raised a mocking eyebrow. “I never claimed I was.”

“You didn’t correct them either.”

“They were screaming so many things, and I was so busy handing out resources. I can’t correct so many people as well.”

Lagertha clenched her teeth and gave the ginger a tight-lipped smile. “And did you get the coin and the food? How did you buy all these things?”

With ease, Vanya drew a letter from beneath her corset; it bore the seal of Slegia. “When my mother requested Silas’s body, she didn’t ask for the gold or jewelry as well. So I had the liberty to use it; however, I wanted to.”

“I will not have you challenging me, Vanya. You no longer hold any power. Remember that and stay in your place.”

Vanya smirked slyly the way Aslaug used to and shrugged mockingly. “If you truly think that, then you are the one whose wits left them.”

The ginger left the Queen behind as she joined her brother’s in law on the Great Hall’s steps. Ubbe drew her to his side, and with an arm around her shoulder, he led her back to their hut to gloat. Brynja joined the quartet with Aros in her arms, scolding the princess for her stunt.


	6. Strange birds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To Vanya’s delight, Ivar returns alive to his family. But the bliss of being reunited gets destroyed by more talk of revenge

Clad in Hoenir's poor excuse of a cloak, Vanya sneaked to the Seer's hut. Hoenir offered no clear answers, and she needed some very fast. So the cryptic blind prophet.

The hut was thick with smoke from candles, and the old man laid in his bed unmoving. The redhead crept towards him and watched him lay there, unsure if he is even alive.

"What does Frigg's favored ward want?"

Vanya jumped at the raspy voice and took a few steps back as the Seer sat up with some difficulty. Licking her lips, she tried to will herself to speak. But no words left her mouth.

"I am very old, child. Speak or leave."

"I..." She swallowed and kneeled in front of the ancient prophet. Fidgeting in her lap, Vanya kept her gaze low as she spoke the painful words. "Is Ivar truly dead? Am I a widow?"

Tears burned in her eyes as the Seer sighed and told her to look up. "Ivar the Boneless has a fate decided by the Gods. So do you. It is up to them to choose when you die. You may run from your destiny. But it has a way of ending the same way."

She shook her head and showed him the carved figurine of Fenrir that Ivar gave her. "I am asking you if he is dead. Not if he will die one day! It is a yes or no answer."

"He is not dead. Just lost."

"Lost? Out on the sea? In Wessex? Where?"

The Seer took the toy from her hands and trailed his aged fingers over it. "In his head. In revenge. As are you. You are as different as the sun and the moon. And in the end, when Ragnarok strikes... Fenrir will swallow you both."

He returned the item back to her, Vanya's mouth in a tight line as she cradled the toy to her chest. How ironic that what was once a sign of love would turn into their downfall. "And what is Fenrir? Greed? Revenge? Pride? Anger?"

"Madness and love. Two sides of the same coin. Always spinning but doomed to fall. One day, you and Ivar will fall, as well. And never rise together again."

She couldn't help but chuckle at the revelation. The sound tumbled out of her throat like vomit, hysterical, and mad at the same time. She felt like crying, but the tears were lost to her. "Are you sure fate is inevitable? Can't there be another way I could keep my husband and sanity both? I would give the gods Anything in return."

"Truly anything?" The Seer asked, his voice sending chills down her spine. He sounded even crazier than her like the voice wasn't his at all.

"Anything but my son. Take my birthright, sympathies, or allies. But let me keep my family and life." The Seer chuckled and pointed at a chest and told her to open it.

When she did as asked, inside laid a coin with the rune for Loki drawn on it. Vanya furrowed her brows and looked at the Seer in question. "Am I making a deal with Loki?"

"Would you if that was what it took to outrun your destiny?"

She chuckled and looked at Fenrir figurine - the child of Loki. "You said you would do Anything... Anything to keep the wolf from you and yours."

"Father always said that deals with the devil would lead to calamity. Is a deal with Loki the same?"

The Seer ignored her question and laid back down as if he was exhausted. After a moment, he showed her his palm. Vanya licked it and left, Loki's coin still in her hand.

Ivar taught her all the runes of his people. The one that looked like a bird beak pointing right stands for Loki - for understanding, cunning, enthusiasm, and many more things. "I don't know if that was Loki or not..."

She looked out at sea and saw a boat approaching. "But I won't risk it. I will keep Ivar from losing himself further... And if I lose myself in the process, then so be it."

Vanya crouched down and dug a hole into the sand under her feet. With one last look, Vanya threw the coin in and buried the item for now. "I came from a long line of cunning liars. But if I am to die, let it be while there is still some of me left." With that, she left the Seer's hut and walked to the docks to see what the commotion is about.

By the time she reached the docks, the ship had docked. Sigurd and Ubbe stood by the boat as they unloaded someone from the vessel. Vanya felt her throat squeeze tight as she saw them carrying a limp body. All hope left her as she thought of the worst possible scenario. They were bringing Ivar's corpse home to be buried.

When Sigurd and Ivar turned, she could breathe again. Her husband's eyes were open, and he was alive. He still looked half a corpse, but he was alive, and that is all that mattered. "Ivar!" She cried out happily and lifted the skirt of her purple dress to run towards the three brothers. 

Ubbe looked at her and jerked his head to the side, motioning for her to follow. Ignoring their confused stares for why she isn't in the hut, Vanya walked beside them to their new home. 

Inside the hut sat Hoenir and Brynja, looking after little Aros, who squealed in delight when he saw his father. The son reached for his father and babbled away. The Ragnarsson sat Ivar down on a chair as Vanya ran in and pulled the cloak off, throwing it at Hoenir's head. 

Ivar took the cup of ale from Ubbe's hands and took a few gulps to settle his stomach. 

"Where is our father?" Sigurd asked, looking at his younger brother with no sympathy. Troubling journey or not, they already lost their mother. Losing Ragnar would mean that they were left vulnerable. 

"Where is Ragnar?" Ubbe pressed on when Ivar failed to answer. Vanya watched him sadly, his face solemn and pale. 

"King Ecbert handed him over to King Aelle, knowing that Aelle would kill him."

Her breath hitched at the information. Aelle hated Ragnar Lothbrok with a passion and would undoubtedly kill him. Meaning Lagertha's ploy to rule by his side was for naught, and war would ensure to get her off the throne. 

"Why would he give him to Aelle?" Ubbe squinted at his brother, not believing him at all. 

"It doesn't matter. Our father is probably dead by now. And we will have to avenge him. That is what matters." Ivar insisted, looking at his wife, who looked at him with pity for the first time in forever. He hated the look on her.

While Vanya and Ivar watched each other, Sigurd and Ubbe had a stare off as well. "We have something to tell you."

"Ubbe?"

"Mother is dead."

Ivar looked at his oldest brother for confirmation. "It's true. Lagertha killed her. Lagertha is now Queen of Kattegat. And Mother is dead."

The Ragnarsson searched the room for any sign of lies. His breath turned shaky, and he felt like crying—the first person to love him and care for him, dead. The only parent that remained to him and raised him was gone. 

Hoenir dragged Brynja, Sigurd, and Ubbe outside to give the married couple some privacy. Vanya picked up Aros from his seat on the furs around the fire and passed him to Ivar. She seated herself in Ubbe's empty chair and waited for him to acknowledge her. 

The father clutched his son tightly to him, muttering into his ear, eyes dark like a stormy sea. He looked as if he was drowning in himself, in all the rage and sadness. Aslaug predicted that he would drown... But what if his fate was to die away from the sea. He was getting swallowed by his emotions till he lost his mind. As the Seer said, they both would. 

Worried by his silence, she snatched at his hand, calling out his name in fear. His blue eyes looked more black now, no longer the pretty blue she fell in love with. His sorrow was warping him right in front of her eyes, and it tore at her heart. "What happened to mother?"

Vanya swallowed and squeezed his hand in reassurance. "They ambushed Hoenir in the morning, wounded him pretty badly. Then they stormed Kattegat. Aslaug led Aros and me to Lagertha. She renounced everything in front of everybody. Asked for a safe passage for the three of us..."

Ivar waited for her to continued, but Vanya couldn't say it out loud. It felt like she was right there, just a few steps in front of her mother in law. The swish of the arrow as it shot Aslaug in the back and ended her life. All because of a man that married them both. 

"Vanya!" Ivar insisted. He softened his expression and rubbed his thumb up and down against her knuckles. "How did Lagertha kill my Mother?"

"She shot her in the back. Pronounced her a witch and had the gull to kill her like she was no more than a dog. Aslaug died with her head held high... She knew what was coming."

Ivar's lip quivered as tears brimmed his eyes. Tears spilled from her own eyes, Aros whining in his father's lap. "We will avenge her. I swear to you, Ivar. Her death will not go unpunished. No matter what I have to do. Aslaug's memory should be honored."

He choked out a cry, Vanya springing from her seat to run to his side. Wrapping his left arm around her waist, Ivar hid his face against her stomach. They cried together for a while—mourning Aslaug, Ragnar, his trauma, and celebrating his return all in one. 

"I have nothing left now."

Vanya shook her head and buried her fingers in his short hair. "That's a lie. You have your brothers. And me. You gave a son Ivar. I will stand by your side till Ragnarok... We swore to be together forever. I won't break that promise."

He sobbed against her stomach harder, cradling both his wife and son close to him. Happy and sad at the same time. How he looked forward to being with them again, only for his life to be turned upside down once again. 

Ivar explained to her everything that happened to him and his father in Wessex. Vanya silently thanked Ragnar for holding onto his word and getting Ivar home safely. For all that hate she bore Ragnar Lothbrok, at least he kept his promise to her and saved his son from the same fate that would befall him. 

Sigurd and Hoenir walked side by side, the silence comfortable for both of them. They both had too many things on their minds. "Isn't that Leifr?" Hoenir frowned and looked where Sigurd jerked his head at.

And true to his word, the young man sat against a house, axe against his shoulder. When he saw them approach, he turned away and closed his eyes like he didn't see them.

Sigurd scoffed and bumped shoulders with Hoenir. "Go talk to him."

"I can't!"

"You have a tongue, don't you, my friend?" The Ragnarsson teased, giving him a reassuring look. "No one will suspect anything if that's what you are worried about. You know, people talk with each other?"

Hoenir rolled his eyes and sighed, walking towards Leifr, who continued to ignore him. For someone who was eager to spend time with Hoenir, he was unusually cold to him. "Leifr."

The man pretended to be asleep. "I saw you being awake."

"Leifr..." Hoenir looked over his shoulder at Sigurd, who gave him a subtly thumbs up. "I am tired of these games." 

Leifr continued to fake sleep, so with a sigh, Hoenir turned on his heel to leave. "I heard what happened." Turning back towards the farmer, he saw him finally awake. 

"Let's take a walk..." The two walked to a secluded area, away from prying ears and eyes. Sigurd sent him another thumbs-up, this time, Leifr saw it. 

"Does he know?"

"They all do. Expect Ivar." Hoenir watched the ground, refusing to meet the other's eyes. "They took it better than I expected."

"That's because you are too afraid to admit it. For a great warrior with the gift of foresight... You are a coward."

Hoenir glared at him and stepped closer, almost face to face with his daring lover. "Bold words from you! At least I talked to you. You ignored me!"

Leifr rolled his eyes and raised his hand to Hoenir's shoulder. The taller male stepped back, watching the calloused hand warily. "I saw you when the attack happened. You looked like shit."

"Well, you don't look like a God either." Leifr chuckled at the defensive remark and drew back his lover's clothes to look at the scar on his shoulder. 

"We can't all be Gods... And I am quite content with the life I have." Hoenir scoffed and jerked his head towards the open streets. 

"And yet you complain about us being a secret."

Leifr shrugged and tugged off Hoenir's hood. "You are a mystery to everyone. I am simply trying to keep up with you. I can't be that easy to read either, don't you think?"

Hoenir chuckled and looked into Leifr's dark eyes. "Fair enough. I must go. If you leave a Ragnarsson alone for too long, they will fuck the wrong girl and get themselves killed."

"Another reason to like men. Never a problem like that when you don't sleep with women." Leifr patted his cheek and ran off, leaving the brooding Seer behind. 

Vanya carried Aros in her arms up a hill. The terrain was bad enough even without the shieldmaiden following her like the plague. According to the woman, they were ordered by Lagertha to watch the sons of Ragnar and Vanya. Especially Vanya if she dared to question Lagertha's authority again.

Upon a stone sat her husband clad in the black cloak she made for him before his departure. He looked like a shadow of what he once was. Her chest felt heavy as she stood there in her purple dress and black cloak. 

She could feel his turmoil from here. So when he let out a pain-filled scream, Vanya felt like he was ripping out her heart. She closed her eyes tightly and clenched her teeth to stop herself from screaming with him. Pressure spread through her head as if it would explode at any moment. 

Aros let out a wail as well. The voices of the two most important people in her life carried through the mountain. Tears spilled down her cheeks, sobs choking her own whimpers of sympathy. 

Remembering the days, she spent crying herself to sleep after her father died. The only family that ever paid any mind to her - and according to Silas, it was a ploy too. A false love or not, she cried for him when she was thirteen. She knew the pain of losing a parent, but Ivar's was worse. 

While Vanya was raised by strange women that were paid to do it and a reserved father, Ivar was raised by a loving mother who desperately tried to replace his absentee father and his missing legs. She sheltered him from the world as much as she could, making herself his only source of love and affection.

No matter how much Ubbe loved him, Ivar only saw his mother. And now she was dead and with her the man that Ivar strived to make proud. He cried yesterday for both of them. But the pain was still there, and screaming was the only way to let out the emotions that he undoubtedly felt. 

He looked over at her with red eyes, the cloak wrapped around him like armor. "Kjære (Dear/Love)." Vanya sobbed harder at his choked out endearment. She had no idea how to help him lessen his suffering. 

Aros sobbed in her arms, tugging at her red locks, but no amount of swaying or patting helped calm him down. He had been cranky from the morning, and now his mood worsened alongside his father's. "Tell me how to help you. I don't know what to do..."

Ivar clenched his fists tightly, looked down at his useless legs, and turned away from her to spare himself her pitiful looks. "Leave... I am an orphan now. I have no claim to my father's and mother's fame and fortune now. A cripple with nothing to offer you. Run while you still can."

Vanya scoffed and marched towards him but stopped when he glared at her. Hiding his sorrow behind the rage. She wouldn't be scared of him even if he threatened her life. "I could care less about what you have to offer me! I have riches of my own. If it is money you desire, then tell me so! But don't shut me out, Ivar. Please..."

"What is there to hold onto? There is nothing left but anger and sadness in me now."

"So there is no place in your heart for your son and me?" Ivar glanced at her with soft eyes but hardened his stare right after. She was a princess and deserved better than a cripple like him. Vanya deserved happiness and a good life, so did Aros. They both deserved a better husband and father, somebody worthy of them.

"No... No place at all. Nothing left to love or be loved."

Vanya shook her head and pulled Aros tighter to her. "I still love you! Aros cried for you while you were gone. I mourned your death, but you came back. So stop pushing me away and let me in!"

"You don't love me, Vanya."

"Of course I love you!"

Ivar shook her head while Vanya sprinted towards him and kneeled before him. Smiling at him softly, she pried his hands from their tight grip and cupped them between hers. "I fell in love with the man that showed me a side of him that no one else knew of. Someone who was stronger in so many ways than anyone I knew. A boy that made me smile and promised to protect me no matter how hard it may get. My husband that I promised I would love till the end of times. The father of my son and all my children to come. The only one I will ever love."

The Ragnarsson kissed her knuckles and pulled Aros into his lap to shush him. When they both calmed down, she cupped his cheek, Ivar leaning into her touch and melting at the affection. "Is a life of vengeance what you want?"

Vanya smiled at him and nodded sadly. "If it's a life by your side... Then I am ready for whatever may come. I promise I will do everything and more to protect you. And then we will kill them all." Ivar smiled at her and pressed his forehead against hers. Thanking the gods for giving him, Vanya.

Sitting in the hall as people cheered for Lagertha was sickening. How ungrateful people could be just because they knew one ruler better than the other. Herding like sheep behind a usurper so easily. 

The speech the Queen gave was boring, to say the least. Vanya's mother would have called Lagertha a beginner manipulator. She bullshitted her way about how Aslaug neglected Kattegat. As if it wasn't a trading port that prospered under it's Queen. Far better off than it ever was with Ragnar. And Lagertha acknowledged it as well but didn't give the credit where it was due.

The crowd parted as Ivar made his way to the throne. Vanya rose from her seat and walked towards Ubbe; her head held high. Showing no sign of fear or regret as Aslaug ordered. Aros was safe with Brynja and Hoenir at Brynja's hut. And Vanya was safe with Ubbe and Sigurd while Ivar did what he had to do.

He seated himself on the chair that Ubbe provided for him. "I've come here for justice. Everyone knows that you killed my mother for no reason except ambition. Therefore, I demand justice."

"Ivar..."

"Don't touch me, coward." Ivar shrugged off Ubbe's hand and glared at Lagertha.

The new Queen walked down the steps of her throne, putting a hand on Ivar's shoulder and looking at him with hard eyes. "He is not a coward. But perhaps he understands some things that you don't."

"I understand everything perfectly. You murdered my mother in cold blood. I want revenge. I challenge you to single combat."

The crowd started muttering between themselves; Sigurd glanced at Vanya, who didn't like a bit surprised by the challenge. "I refuse."

"You can't refuse."

Lagertha stepped back and spread her arms wide to show no ill will. "I refuse to fight you, Ivar Lothbrok, son of Ragnar." The whispers grew louder as Ivar watched her, confused.

"Why? Huh?"

She looked down at him over her shoulder. "I don't want to kill you."

Ivar chuckled and scratched his head with his pike sheepishly. "Who says you would kill me?"

"I do."

"All right. Don't fight me, then. I don't care. Just as long as you know that one day, I will kill you, Lagertha. Your fate is fixed." With the last smug remark, Ivar crawled off. Astrid looked at the satisfied expression on Vanya's face and the neutral faces of the other Ragnarssons.

"A private word Vanya." Ubbe drew his axe when the Queen spoke the words; Sigurd pushed her behind him. But Vanya pushed him to the side and stepped in front of the throne, right on the right side of Ivar's earlier seat. 

"Say what you want."

Lagertha leaned forward and smiled at Vanya with fake kindness. "I understand that your husband is in a difficult position right now. But it would benefit all of you if you reminded that I did not harm you or your son."

"Is that reminder or threat? Neither are wise right now." Vanya raised her eyebrow at the blonde shieldmaiden, ignoring Torvi's warning look. The Ragnarssons flocked against her sides, ready to protect her if they must. But Vanya paid them no mind. 

"I don't want to fight. War only brings unnecessary bloodshed and sorrow."

Vanya scoffed and fingered the Jörmungandr necklace and smiled wrily. "Bold words from the woman who bought both when she murdered a defenseless woman. The blood on your hands was what started this war, Lagertha. Remember that."

Astrid glared at her. "Your hands are stained with blood as well! Or was your brother an accident? And his knights?" Lagertha silenced her lover, but it was too late. The crowd muttered about her statement. They all agreed Silas and his men deserved what hit them. Vanya didn't kill innocent people that didn't deserve it. The manner of death was different as well; they weren't granted life only to be shot in the back.

Vanya looked at the shieldmaiden and smirked softly with her eyebrow up. "My brother had it coming. And you may claim what you want, but everyone knows why they died. I have blood on my hands, I admit. But not the blood of the innocent."

She looked back at Legertha and spread her arms wide just like she did before. Mocking the new Queen might become Vanya's new favorite past time. "I may hate violence and bloodshed. Not a very Viking trait, I am certain... But if the moment calls for it..."

She let the words hang in the room. The was a threat obvious to Lagertha and her followers. Astrid raised her shield and drew her sword as Ubbe and Sigurd stepped closer to Vanya in answer. But the princess only smiled and waited for the Queen to say something.

"I am no fighter, Lagertha. I don't wish to become a shieldmaiden like you or Torvi. But bear in mind that the next time you or anyone lay a hand on my family or me..." Her smile faded and turned into a cold expression that could rival Ivar's. "It will be the last time you have hands."

Tugging her brothers in law behind her, Vanya left the hall, hiding her satisfaction and unease. Vanya was raised to be quiet and meek, but heathens are anything but. So let them see the storm they created.  
  
The Seer foretold that the Gods meant Greatness for her and her children - each born of fire and blood. So let's see what the Gods have in store for them all.

Vanya stayed at home with her son while Ivar went to the forge. Aros was restless the whole day and no amount of lullabies seemed to help. At times she was worried something was wrong with him, but everyone reassured her that babies were like that.

"The stones crack open, the water burns  
The shadows come to dance, my lord  
The shadows come to play  
The shadows come to dance, my lord  
The shadows come to stay"

The door creaked open, but Vanya ignored it. It must be Ubbe to come check on them like he has been for the past two hours. But a hand touched the boy's forehead over her shoulder, and he fell asleep. Vanya couldn't move as somebody lingered behind her in silence.

It felt like she was underwater again, her lungs screaming for air, but her brain refusing to let her breathe. "Ragnar Lothbrok is dead. Killed by serpents. Cold in the cold, iron earth, Ragnar lies."

The hand on Aros's forehead pulled back, and the door closed behind the person. Snapped out of her dreamlike state, Vanya sprung from her seat and ran outside to see Ubbe in a daze, as well. She watched him as raven's cawed above them, a storm gathering above them.


End file.
